Daisy had a blue ribbon tied in her hair and a pretty chiffon neckgear, and was really an attractive girl. "Why didn't you stay all night with that woman of grays and browns and general dismalness, and lose your dinner! There, you have almost. If she had any beauty or charm about her I should be jealous, for you belong to me, you know." Helen slipped into a light shirtwaist and was ready in a trice. Miss Craven did not come down. When the maid went to inquire, she said she had a headache, and wanted only a cup of tea. There was the bit of social life, the study period, and Helen seemed so discomposed that she used up every moment of it until they were dismissed. Daisy put her arm about Helen, another girl took the other side, and three or four of them came into the room. How they stayed! Helen summoned courage presently. "Excuse me a moment," and she flashed out of the room, tapping at Miss Craven's door. It was open just an inch or two. "I came to ask about your headache and say good-night," in a low tone. "Oh, you dear, sweet friend! It did ache, but I think it was a kind of joy throbbing. I didn't want any dinner though. I just laid here and thought--happy thoughts." The half-past nine bell pealed and everyone ran to her own room. Daisy stood in the middle of the floor upbraidingly, if one's attitude can express so much. "I believe that girl has cast an evil eye on you," she began when Helen kept silence, busying herself with preparations. "There are evil charms as well as delightful ones, and spells that wile away love. And you have promised not to love anyone but me." "Have I?" Helen's voice was unsteady. "Yes, you have, and you think promises ought to be kept faithfully. You must keep yours. I said I wouldn't love any other girl, and I haven't. I've seen her look at you with a strange light in her eyes, and they are horrid eyes----" "Don't let us talk about Miss Craven, but read our verses and say our prayers," and now Helen's voice had decision enough in it. "You are changing every day, I can see it," complained Daisy. "Then let us pray that I may get back to the point," with grave peremptoriness. Daisy was a little awed at this solemn way of taking it up, and acquiesced. Helen lay and wondered at herself. Had she made Daisy such a sweeping promise? And how easy it had been to say those few words to Miss Craven. What joy it had given her. She did not love Daisy Bell any less--how many people could you love? Must one true affection shut out the others?