But the Major had once said--"Margaret, while you can endure the suffering, always think that I would much rather have you as you are than to have lost you in that terrible time, and God has spared us our two fine sons and our sweet daughter." Yes, there was much joy still left to life. Zay went to her classes as a visitor this morning. There were many smiles of welcome. After all, she had not fallen so far behind, but her brother had been coaching her. There were four new scholars in the Latin class. The Kirklands, Louie Howe, who had been promoted, and a Miss Boyd, who roused a peculiar interest; but then her rendering in the translation was exceedingly fine. "Who is that tall girl with the bronzy gold hair? And isn't she a fine reader?" exclaimed Zaidee. They were in a little group of old friends. Louie Howe laughed. Phillipa made a funny face. "Well?" and flushing a little she glanced up, inquiringly. "The caretaker's daughter. We are democratic this year," announced May Gedney. "The caretaker--" "A Mrs. Boyd, a pale little nonentity, but she darns in the most elegant fashion you ever saw. She had to bring her daughter you see, and the daughter is to be a teacher--is a sort of charity scholar, looks after the laggards in the evening, but she keeps her place pretty well. Of course she lives over on that side," nodding her head. "See here," began Phillipa, "that girl has puzzled me with an elusive resemblance to somebody, Zay, it really is you. Her hair and eyes are darker, she's larger every way, she is not such a peerless maid--" "I shouldn't feel complimented by that! Oh the idea! A girl from--well somewhere from the wild and woolly west--" Much as Phillipa Rosewald loved her friends and she confessed to adoring Zaidee, she never stopped at a little fling. "The compliment, of course, is to Miss Boyd. She has a temper of her own, you can catch a flash of it in her eyes, and I dare say her iron rule is what makes her mother so meek. She pets up that Nevins girl who is a--well they are called Beauty and the Beast. How she managed to slip in here puzzles me." "That girl is my horrid familiar, my _bete noire_. She has the room next to mine and you ought to see it. Miss Davis marked her down for untidyness, and Mrs. Barrington put her on a diet, her complexion was so horrid, but she manages to get a lot of sweets and chocolates. And the way she dresses! A modiste in New York sends her clothes and told her the color of one's frocks must match the hair or the eyes, and no one could match those gray blue green eyes, so it has to be the hair." "I wouldn't want that dull brown hair. I don't suppose she ever brushes it. At home the maid looked after her. The mother is traveling for her health, and they are very rich."