“Oh, look, girls!” Judith suddenly exclaimed, grasping Helen and swinging her around unceremoniously. “Now I know the color of her eyes! They are pure violet.” The unexpected exclamation, and the energy of Judith’s swing gave Helen a perceptible start. For a moment she seemed about to dash off. She changed color from flush to pallor and was surely trembling. Then realizing it was all a joke, she quickly regained her composure, but not before the girls had noted her curious attitude and alarm. Even Jane, slow to criticise, could not but admit Helen was frightened, and at such a trifle! Why was she always so fearful? What was there for her to be so markedly nervous about? That she had asked, and even insisted that the Polish name of Helka Podonsky be changed to the American substitute, Helen Powderly, had seemed reasonable enough to the girls, when just after their arrival in New York Helen explained that name meant “power” and while the “sky” stood for distinction in Poland, it would mean nothing but possible ridicule in her school life. To this Jane and Judith had assented. Perhaps it would be best, they agreed, not to antagonize the less broadminded girls with the foreign title. Also, Helen had so earnestly wished it. All this flashed before their minds now, when a simple girlish exclamation caused a panic of fear. It must be nerves, of course. Perhaps Helen had studied too hard in qualifying for the scholarship! Girls are often jumpy, but not often quite so easily overcome, Jane thought. “But what shall we do with so many hats?” asked Helen naïvely recovering herself. “We shall be at school always.” “Oh, not half of always,” replied Jane. “You see, Helen, we must ride, I haven’t told you about your horse (the violet eyes widened with pleasure) and then,” continued Jane, “we are going on all sorts of hikes and hunts and outside jaunts. We are going to beg you in as a junior. Sometimes the juniors, that’s Judith and me, are allowed to have what we call pupils. It isn’t really catalogued but we occasionally get a younger girl to go with us, so that we may try out our knowledge on her.” “Yes, and my particular stunt is,” Judith acclaimed, trying her tam at another angle, “to get a girl who knows more than I do, and let her try out her knowledge on me. Last year I found a perfect wizard in Meta Noon. She knew more about bi-ology than I shall ever have a chance to learn, and in the woods—what Meta didn’t tell me about queer bugs, and buzzards and beetles and bombus and—well, I was buzzing for a week after one hike.” “After all,” sighed Anaa, “school days have a charm. But we never realize it until it is gone.” “Then of what value is the charm?” asked Jane. “Exactly like cutting a tooth—only good after all the cutting is done,” decided Judith.