"Sh-h! Listen. I've got her letter here. You must hear it!" and she whipped open the letter and began to read: "Oh--oh--It isn't true--it can't be true! But father says it is, and father doesn't lie. I'm to go to Sunbridge. Sunbridge! I think Sunbridge is the loveliest name in the world--for a town, I mean, of course. "DEAR GENEVIEVE:--There! this is actually the first minute I could bring myself to begin this letter properly. Really, a thing like this can't just begin, you know! And to think that I'm going to see Paul Revere's grave and Bunker Hill and you just next September! Oh, how can I ever thank you and dear Mrs. Kennedy? I love her, love her, love her--right now! And all the Happy Hexagons--I love them, too. I love everybody and everything--I'm going to Sunbridge! "All day I've been saying over and over to myself that song in the 'Lady of the Lake,' only I've changed the words a little to fit my case; like this: "'Quentina, rest! thy longing o'er, Sleep the sleep that knows no breaking; Dream of Texas schools no more, Days of longing, nights of sighing For Paul Revere's enchanted land. Hands unseen thy days are planning, Fairy strains of music falling Every sense is up and calling, Quentina, rest! thy longing o'er, East thy steps will turn once more.' "That 'more' is poetry, but a fib; for of course I haven't been East at all yet. But that's just poetic license, you know--fibs like that. "Oh, I just can't wait for September! "Your happy, happy "QUENTINA." "My, but won't she be a picnic when she gets here?" chuckled Tilly, as soon as she could stop laughing long enough to find her voice. "What in the world is the matter with you girls?" demanded Charlie Brown, sauntering up to them, arm in arm with O. B. J. Holmes. Tilly turned merrily. "Matter! I guess you'll think something is the matter when Quentina Jones gets here," she laughed. "Who is Quentina Jones?" "She is a new girl who is coming to school next year," explained Elsie. "She's from Texas, and she's never been East before," chimed in Bertha. "Yes, and as for you, Mr. Obejay Holmes," teased Tilly, "just you wait! There's no telling what she will do with your name!" "What do you mean?" O. B. J. spoke to Tilly, but he threw a merry glance into Genevieve's understanding eyes. "Nothing, only she's a regular walking rhyming dictionary, and I can just fancy how those mysterious initials of yours will fire her up. My poor little 'O Be Joyful' won't be in it, then. You'll see!"