Walter Earle had talked a great deal about Jaquelina Meredith since the night of the lawn-party. He saw that his mother was not displeased at his admiration of the lovely orphan girl. "I admire Miss Meredith very much," he said, in his frank way. "I think she is very beautiful--do not you, Val?" "She is--fascinating," said Ronald Valchester. Violet looked up quickly. "Fascinating," she said. "What do you mean by that, Mr. Valchester? I do not exactly comprehend. Is it more--or less--than beauty?" "I think it is more," he replied. "More?" said Violet. "What could be better than beauty, Mr. Valchester." "The power to win," said Valchester. "I have seen some very beautiful women whom I did not admire. They lacked that _je ne sais quoi_, which is so strong in Miss Meredith that I could fancy one might even admire her against his will." "You mean the charm of the serpent," said Violet, innocently. "No, I did not mean that in the least," said Valchester. He bit his lip as if the suggestion did not please him. "There is nothing serpent-like about Miss Meredith. She seems a gentle, fresh-hearted girl; but I do not believe I could quite define my impressions"--abruptly--"will you excuse me from trying?" "Certainly," she answered, carelessly, to hide a certain girlish pique, while Walter said, gaily: "You are too dignified to get down to the level of Violet's understanding, Val. Let me explain. He means, in college parlance, sis, that Miss Meredith has a taking way with her." "Thank you; I quite understand," said Violet, with dignity. She went out of the room, and the subject was not resumed. There had been some talk of their going over to the farm to bid Miss Meredith adieu, but the project was tacitly dropped. They returned to college that night, but without seeing Jaquelina. One week afterward a huge box of books was forwarded to the girl, over which she went almost wild with joy. All the best of the poets, ancient and modern, were there, in fine and elegant bindings, and profusely illustrated. In the first volume she opened was a card. "The compliments of Ronald Valchester." Jaquelina studied the beautiful chirography of the student admiringly for awhile; then she laid it away with the withered passion-flowers in the box with her dead mother's jewelry. After several days of passionate delight over the books, Jaquelina remembered that she had not thanked the sender. Soon afterward a little white note found its way to the University. Ronald Valchester read the few lines it contained many times; but he must have forgotten to show it to Walter Earle, for the latter never heard of it. "MR. VALCHESTER:--A thousand thanks for the books. You have made me very happy. "JAQUELINA MEREDITH." That was all she said, but it pleased Ronald Valchester, though the University students unanimously agreed that he was hard to please and fastidious to a fault.