When quite by herself around the corner of the house, she drew a long breath. "Sometimes," she muttered fiercely behind her teeth, "sometimes I--I just wish folks _weren't_ so good to me! Seems to me I just _can't_ waste a whole hour of this tiny little bit of glorious day that is left, practising a stupid old 'one, two--one, two--one, two!'" Then, with apparent irrelevance, she patted her blue-and-gold chatelaine watch remorsefully--and it may be noted right here that she came back in ample time for her hour of practising before supper. There was a new boy at school the next morning. This fact in itself did not particularly interest the Happy Hexagons until they learned his name. It was "O. B. J. Holmes." When the initials did not seem quite to satisfy Miss Hart, he hesitated visibly, then said, with a very painful blush, that the "O" might be put down "Oliver." It was plainly on the teacher's tongue to ask about the other letters; but, after a moment's hesitation, she passed over the matter, and turned to something else. As usual the Happy Hexagons found themselves together at recess time, and as was natural, perhaps, the subject of the new boy came up for discussion. "I don't believe 'Oliver' is ever his name," declared Tilly, stoutly. "No sane youth in his right mind would blush so beautifully over just 'Oliver.' Besides, he didn't _say_ it was Oliver." [Illustration: "'HOW DO YOU DO, MR. OLIVER HOLMES,' SHE BEGAN"] "I saw Miss Hart talking to him as I came out just now," announced Bertha, "and his face was even redder than ever. Hers was getting red, too." "Then there _is_ something," cried Genevieve, excitedly, "and it's a mystery. I love mysteries! 'O. B. J.'--what a really funny set of letters!" "Must be 'Oliver Ben Johnson,'" laughed Bertha. "Sounds to me like 'O Be Joyful,'" giggled Tilly. "Sh-h!--Tilly!" warned Cordelia, in a horrified whisper. "He's coming. He'll hear you!" But Tilly was not to be silenced. Tilly, for some reason, felt recklessly mischievous that morning. "Why, of course his, name is 'O Be Joyful,'" she cried in gay, shrill tones that carried the words straight to the ears of a rather awkward-appearing boy coming toward them. "How could it be anything else?" The boy blushed hotly. For a moment it seemed as if he would stop and speak; but the next minute he had turned away his face, and was passing them hurriedly. It was then that the unexpected happened. With a quick little impulsive movement, Genevieve stepped to the new boy's side, and held out a frankly cordial hand. "How do you do, Mr. Oliver Holmes," she began breathlessly, but with hurried determination. "I am Genevieve Hartley, and I'd like to welcome you to our school. These are my friends: Cordelia Wilson, Alma Lane, Bertha Brown, Elsie Martin, and Tilly Mack. We hope you'll soon get acquainted and feel at home here," she finished, her face almost as painful a red as was the boy's.