“I wanted a restful room with soft colors, and soothing pictures—not profound, energy-inspiring ones—for in this room I rest and read and talk with my girls. And some way it satisfies me—the way I have furnished and arranged it. Now, Virginia, I want to know about that wonderful country of yours. You must tell us while we drink our tea.” Then followed one of the most memorable hours of Virginia’s school life. Years afterward the remembrance of it was to stay with her—a sweet and helpful influence. They sat in the brown and gold room, which the sun setting made more golden, and talked of school plans, of the new girls, of the summer just passed, and most of all of Virginia’s country, which neither Miss King nor Mary had seen. The subjects of their conversation were simple enough, but in some way the gray-haired woman by the window made everything said doubly memorable and precious; and when they left, as the school clock was striking five, they felt, as many before them had felt, strangely helped and strengthened. “Isn’t she wonderful?” breathed Virginia, as they went down the steps together. “Yes, she is,” Mary said thoughtfully. “And after I’ve been with her I wonder what it is about her that helps one so. She doesn’t say very much—she always makes you talk; but there’s just something beautiful about her that you always feel. I guess that’s why St. Helen’s is such a fine school.” They took the long way around the campus so that Virginia might see the buildings. In addition to the large main one, there were two others, also of gray stone—one for recitations and the other containing the laboratories and Domestic Science rooms. There was also, Mary told her, in the pine woods below the hill, a little gray stone chapel, called St. Helen’s Retreat, where they held their vesper services, and where the girls were free to go when they wished. It was the quietest, dearest place, Mary said. She did not see how she had happened to forget to show Virginia the woodsy path that led to it, as they came up the driveway. The cottages for the girls were scattered about the campus. There were six of them,—King Cottage, West, Overlook, Hathaway, Willow, and The Hermitage. Each accommodated fifteen girls, with the exception of The Hermitage, which was smaller than the others and held but nine. Miss King did not like dormitories, Mary explained, as they went along. She thought they lacked a home feeling, and so St. Helen’s had never built dormitories for its girls. Moreover, in spite of many requests, Miss King limited her number of girls to eighty-five—a large enough family, she said, since she wished to know each member of it. The cottages did look homelike certainly, Virginia thought, with their wide porches, well-kept lawns, shrubs, and garden flowers. The Hermitage was the tiniest of them all, and stood quite apart from the others behind a clump of fir trees, through which a gravel path led to the cottage itself.