"I was too. I begin to think I ought not have come here, but I did not want to go where there were one or two hundred girls, and I did want to learn nice ways," hesitatingly. "Then this is the very place to come." "Only I did not imagine they were all rich girls; that is, society people," awkwardly. "Oh, they are not. Two of the seniors mean to teach next year, so they cannot be rich. And one girl is going to an art school and means to work her way through. Of course most of them have fathers to care for them." "I have never had anyone to care in that way. And it is curious, but on my father's side I have not a single near relative, perhaps none at all. And my mother was an only child." "I have neither father or mother," returned Helen. "But I have some very kind relatives on my mother's side." "It is dreadful to be all alone, and to think----" Miss Craven paused and compressed her lips, looked indeed as if she would cry, but winked very hard. And then Helen noticed that she had lovely long lashes, much darker than her hair and that her upper eyelids were thin, almost transparent. It was queer how she was beginning to see these little points of comeliness. "Oh, there are the girls!" she said. They were winding round into Elm Avenue, with great bunches of wild flowers and bright leaves, and one girl with an armful of golden-rod. "I am much obliged for the talk," and with a sudden abruptness Miss Craven disappeared. Helen looked after her a moment. She was lonely and unhappy. She would like very much to know her story. The girls speculated upon her and decided that she was a nobody come into a fortune. Private lessons, of necessity, cost more, so she must have money. Then her clothes, though not showy, were expensive and had a true _modiste_ air. There was evidently something she did not want the world to know; she had not been used to society, and she was hopelessly plain. Miss Mays made rhymes about her on the Lear nonsense pattern. You really couldn't help laughing at a great deal of bright criticism she indulged in if her comments were rather sarcastic. Helen ran down the steps out to the sidewalk, looking happy and merry. "You poor child, you are not yet resolved into a demi-semi-quaver or any other shaky thing. But you should have been with us! I was awfully afraid of snakes, and one had to sit down and help to pick out the beggar ticks, though I long to give them the old-fashioned, appropriate country name. Why such things were allowed to grow I can't see. We discovered a new rivulet meandering down the mountain side, and a royal bed of ferns, and one of two new specimens of bloom. As for you--I observe the jabberwock has not slain you, so I suppose you conquered him!" Helen laughed as she took Roxy's outstretched hand, which she could not very well help, and said, "I have the answer of a good conscience." "And we have the answer of sights and sounds and a wonderful sunset." "Yes, I saw that."