"Well, Mattie Vincent, you can make a bosom friend of her for all that I care." "Oh girls, don't let's quarrel about her when we have just come and are glad to see each other. I dare say Miss Boyd wont trouble us." "She'll be pushing, and aspiring to the best--you'll see! One can tell by the way she holds her head, and she _could_ stare you out of countenance with those bold black eyes. I shall keep on my guard. You'll see me take her down if she presumes." But Lilian Boyd did not presume. She went to church with her mother on Sunday in a simple white pique frock, and spent the evening on the back porch with Miss Arran, not even going in the parlor for the singing, and on Monday school duties began. The classes received considerable accessions from the day scholars. Lilian had two of the younger classes and she found a real pleasure in the teaching. Then she was in the Latin class and proved herself an excellent scholar. The evening hour was sometimes rather trying. Some of the girls asked foolish questions just to perplex her. Occasionally she suggested they should ask Miss Davis. The younger ones were quite tractable, though now and then a spirit of fun broke out, set a-foot generally by the larger girls. CHAPTER III FOOD FOR CONSIDERATION Lilian Boyd did not want to cross the line of division that was acutely felt and yet so nicely projected that a faint move on her part would bring about a rebuff. She had the youthful longing for girlish friendships, for little confidences about books they liked, about aims and the future. Some of the pupils were so attractive; and it was because she was the caretaker's daughter; she saw it when they came in to her mother with any errand, when they passed her in the halls with a supercilious nod. But then, why need she care? They would go their way presently and she might remain. She knew she had won Mrs. Barrington's favor. That lady made it a point of her joining the Sunday evening singing and she found that she had a good, flexible voice. One lovely October afternoon she thought she would walk down to the river whose banks were now a blaze of color. Some one called and she turned. It was Alice Nevins who _was_ sometimes tiresome. The girls were going down in town and one of them had really asked her if she would not like to join them. A gratified light shone in her eyes for a moment. There was something in the other's face that gave her a quick warning. There was some plot underneath. "Thank you very much but I cannot go this afternoon. I hope you will all have a nice time." Then she went to her room. Her mother was folding up some sewing. "There is so little to do," and she smiled vaguely. "Come out and walk with me." "No, I don't feel equal to it, I will put a shawl about me and sit on the porch." "Shall I come and read to you?" "No, dear, it is an effort to listen. I'll just sit and think." "Mother, are you satisfied here?"