“Helen dear, I believe you!” she whispered. “Whatever may be the real motive, I know it is an honest one, and I shall do as you ask. Of course, I feel helpless to assist you, as I should like, as I am prevented from asking the aid of those empowered to help us all at Wellington, nevertheless, I guess we can do something. We girls are as strong at least as our opponents, and we have right on our side. So cheer up, Helen dear! Come out, try to pretend you are over your nervous spell, so that they will have less chance to criticise. You must promise me something, too, little girl! See, I have promised you!” “Oh, yes, Jane dear, ask and I promise!” “That you will not ask to leave Wellington!” From a look of fear and horror, gradually there stole into the dark misty eyes an expression of determination. With it the proud head again assumed its poise, Jane had so often thought to be almost regal, and the flaming cheeks composed now into a mold of beauty and dignity. “I shall agree to the wish!” declared Helen, taking Jane’s hand, and pressing it to her lips. “As you ask it I shall give it. I will not go away from the dear Wellington.” “There, that’s the spirit, Helen. If you take that attitude you will conquer all comers,” she said rather irreverently, considering Helen’s meager store of paraphrased English. “Yes, I will try! It is more noble to stand up than to—fall!” answered Helen, thus betraying her actual knowledge of Jane’s argument. “I will not be a coward—I will fight as my—father—my brother. They did not lay down at Warsaw! They fought to death!” Again Jane was conscious of the atmosphere of tragedy. Somehow Helen was very unusual, and Jane confessed to herself just now, rather difficult. Notwithstanding these drawbacks, however, Jane was still firm as ever in her belief that Helka Podonsky was a persecuted girl, an artist, and probably a born aristocrat. Surely all this was guarantee of her worth and reliability. The tapping at Jane’s door, for some moments left unanswered, became more insistent, and satisfying herself that Helen had regained her composure, Jane now proceeded to answer the summons. As the door opened two blue eyes blazed in. “Jane Allen!” sang out Clarisse Cummings, she known as the prettiest freshie. “We are having an awful time; and I have been appointed a committee of one to come to your highness (this with a jerk of a curtsy) to beg arbitration.” “Come in, Clarisse,” Jane interrupted. “I have not much time before class, but I shall be glad to help you if I can.” “Oh, you surely can. Hello, Nellie!” to Helen. “Where ever have you been? Sick?” “Just nerves,” assisted Jane, as Helen smiled a “non vult” to the charge. “Helen has been working very hard with her violin, and sometimes out of doors at that. Strange we have so little understanding of the artistic temperament.”