"Oh, my child, I could not have dreamed of anything so comfortable, and for your sake--you are happy?" with a touch of wistfulness. "Oh, it is so delightful, and then to think that I shall fit myself for a nice position presently. Then mother dear we will have a few rooms and a real home again." "Oh, you are so good," in a tremulous tone. Lilian kissed her. She wondered why her mother's eyes rested on her at times with that unfathomable look and the lips would move, then suddenly compress. So she walked down past the summer house where the Virginia creeper was flaunting long scarlet branches in the wind. "Oh, Miss Boyd!" She turned. Alice Nevins ran out. Her face was red and swollen with weeping. "Oh, what is the matter?" "Let me come with you? Oh, I'm so homesick, and I just hate some of the girls. They laugh when I blunder. I don't know things. I just hate school! Papa _would_ send me here. Mamma begged to take me abroad. I'm sure I could have learned a great many things. People say travel is an education. I hate to study books. Do you really love it?" "Yes, very much, and for all it brings to you. Were you never at school before?" "Only a little. Then I had a governess. You see, I was growing fast and mamma thought I oughtn't study. She wasn't very well and papa wanted to take her somewhere in Italy, and he sent me here, and some of the girls _do_ make fun of me. Can't you _feel_ it when they are laughing at you?" Lilian flushed. "I try to think of something else. They are not really worth minding." "I know I'm not pretty. Oh, I wish I were! And you have such a lovely complexion. How is it made up?" "Made up? What do you mean?" "One of the girls said it was, and that sometimes you painted." Lilian was angry then. "My paint and powder are soap and water," she returned, indignantly. "It is a shame for a young girl to do such things." "But you _are_ pretty. Must your mother be the caretaker here? What does she have to do?" "She looks after the sewing and the mending. Yes, because we are poor, we both have to earn our living. Some day I mean to teach and take care of her." "Where is your father?" "Oh, he died when I was a baby." "Well--I'm awful sorry. Do you like that Phillipa Rosewald?" "I don't know much about her." "She makes fun of so many things, and she tells you words that sound wrong when you pronounce them. I said something yesterday and the girls giggled and Miss Davis thought I did it purposely and I was marked down." "It was a very mean thing," Lilian's cheek glowed with indignation. "Then Miss Rosewald tells such funny stories. Four or five of the girls just hang together and they think they are everything. But I guess father is as rich as any of their fathers. Only I wish I was real handsome." "Oh, my dear, I would think of my studies instead. Now let us talk them over. What is it that bothers you most?" "Oh, everything."