“I wonder if we shall all come back next year,” said Amy. “I suppose the war will make a difference in everything. I don’t believe Mother will let me leave her if Jack is away. She says she can’t bear to be parted from both of us.” “Well, don’t let’s bother about next year, or war, or anything else disagreeable,” said Molly. “Let’s just remember that it’s June, and that we’re all going home for the summer. You look awfully happy, Gretel; I had no idea you’d be so glad to leave school.” Gretel laughed. “I am glad,” she said, with a long breath of pure delight. “School is all right, and the Mintons are very kind, but there isn’t any place in the world like home. It seems as if I could hardly wait to get to New York and see Percy and Barbara.” Molly regarded her friend curiously. It was not the first time the idea had occurred to her that possibly Gretel had not had altogether a comfortable time during the past few months. She had never complained, and had been almost always cheerful, but there were times when her eyes had a sad, hurt look in them, and those were generally the times when some one had made a sharp or thoughtless allusion to her German antecedents. Molly was a kind-hearted girl, and really fond of Gretel, and she made a sudden resolve to try to make up to her friend for some of the half-unintentional slights she had received. They were a very merry party on the train, and a source of much amusement to their fellow-travelers, during the short journey, but as they drew near to the great city, where they were to separate, everybody was suddenly aware of feeling just a little sad. “You’ll be sure to write once a week, won’t you, Angel?” Amy Bowring whispered to her chum. “It’s going to be terribly lonely without Jack. We always did so many things together, you know.” “Of course I will,” promised Angel, “and perhaps your mother will let you make me a visit. Beverly isn’t so very far from Bar Harbor.” “I shall expect a visit from some of you,” declared Margaret. “Mother said I could ask three girls, but the trouble is I want you all, and don’t know which three to choose.” “We shall have to draw lots,” laughed Kitty. “Then nobody can possibly feel slighted. Why, here we are in the tunnel already; we must hurry and get our things together.” Five minutes later the suburban train was gliding into the Grand Central Station. “There’s Jerry!” cried Geraldine, joyfully, as they hurried along the crowded platform, and the next moment she was rapturously hugging a tall schoolboy, whose round, good-humored face displayed an odd mixture of pleasure and embarrassment. “Oh, Jerry, you darling, I am glad to see you! When did you get home?” “Last night,” returned her brother, extricating himself, not without some difficulty, from her embrace. “School closed yesterday, and I came home on the Boston Flyer. I say, old girl, you needn’t hug a fellow like that before people, you know. Where’s Gretel?”