It was a day toward the first of October at the noon hour that Lydia met Kent and Charlie Jackson. She had finished her lunch, which she ate in the cloakroom, and bareheaded and coatless was walking up and down the sidewalk before the schoolhouse. "Hello, Lyd! How's everything?" asked Kent. "I haven't seen you to talk to since last spring." "Did you have a fine summer?" said Lydia. "Aw, only part of it. Dad made me work till the middle of August, then Charlie and I camped up on the reservation." "Shame he had to work, isn't it?" grinned Charlie. "Poor little Kent!" The three laughed, for Kent now towered above Lydia a half head and was as brawny as Charlie. "There comes Margery," said Lydia. "She hardly speaks to me now, she's been to New York." "She _is_ a peach," exclaimed Charlie, eying Margery in her natty little blue suit appraisingly. "Some swell dame, huh?" commented Kent, his hands in his trousers' pockets, cap on the back of his head. "Hello, Marg! Whither and why?" "Oh, how de do, Kent!" Margery approached languidly, including Lydia and Charlie in her nod. "Got any paper dolls in your pocket, Miss Marshall?" inquired Charlie. Margery tossed her head. "Oh, I gave up that sort of thing long ago!" "Land sakes!" The young Indian chuckled. "How do you like High School, Margery?" asked Lydia. "Oh, it's well enough for a year or so! Of course Mama, I mean--Mother's going to send me to New York to finish." "'Mother!' suffering cats!" moaned Kent. "Marg, you're getting so refined, I almost regret having pulled you out of the lake that time." "_You_! Why Kent Marshall, I pulled her out myself!" exclaimed Lydia. "And I saved both of you--and got licked for it," said Kent. "I hope you all had a pleasant summer," observed Margery, twisting up the curls in front of her small ears. "Mother and I were in New York." Kent, Lydia and Charlie exchanged glances. "I had a pretty good summer," said Lydia. "I sewed and cooked and scrubbed and swam and once Adam, Dad, Mr. Levine and I walked clear round the lake, eighteen miles. Adam nearly died, he's so fat and bow-legged. He scolded all the way." "I don't see how your father can let that Mr. Levine come to your house!" exclaimed Margery with sudden energy. "My father says he's a dangerous man." "He's a crook!" said Charlie, stolidly and finally. Lydia stamped her foot. "He's not and he's my friend!" she cried. "You'd better not admit it!" Margery's voice was scornful. "Daddy says he's going to speak to your father about him." "Your father'd better not go up against Levine too hard," said Kent, with a superior masculine air. "Just tell him I said so." "You don't stick up for Levine, do you, Kent?" asked Charlie, indignantly.