"It's a caller," said Jean. "We'll have to vacate. Here, scurry into the dining-room with all your stuff. I'll answer the bell; and you, Bettie, remind Mother to take off her apron--she's apt to forget it." Jean, stopping long enough to twitch the chairs into place, went primly to the door. "Good-morning," said a familiar voice, "I've come to return your visit. It's all right, James. You needn't wait." "Come back, girls," called Jean, when she had ushered the caller in. "It's Henrietta." "What luck!" cried Henrietta, pulling off her gloves. "Now I can make a long, long call instead of four short ones. What are you doing--Christmas presents? Give me a spool of fine white thread, some pins and a sofa pillow. I'm going to make one, too." "Take off your things," said Jean, smilingly. Henrietta wriggled out of her jacket and tossed her hat on the couch. "What is it going to be?" asked Bettie, watching the merry visitor's deft fingers fly to and fro. "Lace," returned Henrietta. "I learned to make it in France. Of course these aren't the right materials for very fine lace, but I can make an edge for a pincushion or a mat. I like to do things with my fingers." "Can you draw?" asked Bettie. "A little," returned Henrietta, modestly, "but you mustn't tell Miss Rossitor, or she'll have _me_ doing cows and pigs and roosters." "What grade do you belong in?" asked Jean. "None," laughed the visitor, arranging the pins in what looked like a very intricate pattern. "I couldn't be graded. I'm having Domestic Science under the Methodist church, Senior Latin in the Council Chamber, Post-graduate French in a cloak-room off the A. O. U. W. Hall, Sophomore American History with the Baptists, and I'm doing mathematics in the kindergarten--or somewhere down there. I had to go back to the very beginning. If I ever tell you anything with numbers in it don't believe it. I don't know six from six hundred. But I'm doing lessons in five different buildings and getting lots of exercise besides. That's doing pretty well for my first year in school." "Your first year!" cried Marjory. "Surely you're fooling!" "Not this time," assured Henrietta. "I've had governesses and tutors ever since I could think, but this is truly my first school year. And it's great fun. But if I stay in America, I'm to go to boarding school, Grandmother says. I've always wanted to, and Grannie thinks it will be good for me to be with other girls. You see, I've always lived with grown folks, so I need to renew my youth." "Mother's been reading the boarding-school advertisements in the magazines lately," said Mabel. "I heard her read some of them aloud to Father. But of course they couldn't have been thinking about _me_. But they sounded interesting." "Perhaps," offered Bettie, "they had read all the stories and those boarding schools were all they had left to read." "I guess so," said Mabel.