The two girls rocked slowly back and forth, stealing side-wise glances at each other. Helen was very glad there was nothing derogatory in the story. She seemed to understand the sort of man grandfather Craven was; there were two or three of them about Hope, if they had no iron mines in prospect. They did not believe in education in modern methods, nor anything but saving up money. How did it look to grandfather Craven on the other side of the river, she wondered?

"I wish I could help you," Helen began presently. All her sympathy went out to the girl of nineteen who was very little older than herself, who had lost four or five of the choicest years out of her life. If it had been because her mother was an invalid all that time, one could see the use of it. Or if her grandfather had been poorly and needed care.

"Oh, you have helped me by understanding as you do," returned Miss Craven. "And now when I catch a glance of your eye it will give me courage."

"I am sure you are right. And if some of the girls knew your story——"

"Oh, no, no!" with quick, pained apprehension, "I shouldn't want them to. I hope you——"

Juliet Craven felt she could trust this girl without a word, that it would be almost an insult to doubt her integrity. Why, she did not know. She was not sufficiently versed in human nature to explain its intricacies.

"If you mean that I could not betray a confidence, you are just right there," with a heightened color. "But Miss Grace is wise and judicious and understands girls."

"Only—I don't know as I can make it clear, but I am afraid of almost everybody. I have lived alone so much, I think I am like someone who has been blind for years and whose eyes are suddenly opened, and he cannot judge accurately of anything. I hear the girls at times mapping out characters with such a degree of certainty that I envy them. I do not seem to know how to judge anyone."

"And their judgment isn't right half the time," laughed Helen. "It takes a great deal of wisdom and experience to do this, and I do not believe any young schoolgirl has enough. I haven't. I've changed my mind ever so many times about some of the girls until I almost began to think I hadn't any mind at all."

Juliet Craven smiled at that. If this bright girl could not judge correctly—but then she was not fifteen, and she, Juliet, more than four years older.

"I am glad someone knows it all. I have only told half to Mrs. Aldred, though I suppose Mrs. Howard explained why I was so backward. Oh, do you think I shall ever catch up?" and there was a piteous anxiety in her voice.

"Why, you have done a great deal in music in this brief time."

"But I love music so. And literature enchants me. But analysis of language, and higher mathematics—I never shall master them I know. I think no one could trip me up on spelling, however. When I found a difficult word in a book I spelled it over for days," and the faint impression of a smile crossed her lips. "But the meanings puzzle me. It is hard oftentimes to think of the correct word, and that makes me afraid to talk."

"I have always had a good many to talk to, and that must make a difference," and the thought of living almost alone on a mountain, out of the reach of people, crossed Helen's mind and gave her a shudder. "Oh, I don't see how you lived so alone!" she cried vehemently.

"It was dreadful after mother was gone. If I could have gone down in town once in awhile, but there was so much to do, and grandfather always said he didn't want women folks bothering round when he went anywhere. Then it was so far to church, though I did go once in a great while when I had anything to wear. But the girls I had known in school forgot me, and were married, or busy about other things. And I somehow grew used to talking to the dumb creatures and the denizens of the woods. I always kept thinking that something would happen and I'd have a chance. And I resolved that I would go to school and get an education as mother wished. But I never thought how hard it would be to begin back like a child a dozen or so years old. You see grandfather was seventy-six when mother died, and my vague plan was when he had gone, to sell everything and go away. I couldn't ever have dreamed of so much money. And now I don't know what to do with it. Mrs. Davis said it would all come right when I married some nice man, who would take care of it and manage it for me, but Mrs. Howard said get some education first, and I would be better able to know what I wanted. Though I am sure I don't want to be married."

"The education will certainly be best," Helen returned with the gravity of twenty. "And I think you ought not be discouraged so soon."

"There is so much more to learn than I had any idea of. And when I look ahead——"

"Oh, don't look ahead," cried Helen laughingly. "Just live day by day, 'Sufficient to the day is the evil thereof,' and I wonder if the good will not be sufficient also! It is only about a year ago that I cared anything for education, I was just a country girl too, and suddenly roused, I didn't know how I could compass it when a way was opened. I can have two splendid years, and I mean to crowd them full. I don't know what will happen after that, and I am not going to worry about it. You can have all the years you are minded to take, and you will succeed, I know."

The tone was buoyant, inspiriting. To Helen the prospect was enchanting. Already she had learned what a factor money was, what a blessing to have enough of it that one need not feel anxious about the future. She would settle her plans at once. Stay three years here at Aldred House, then go to college. During the four years there would be plenty of time to arrange the rest. In her case it would be teaching.

"How comforting you are!" and there was both depth and sincerity in the tone.

"Doesn't Mrs. Aldred advise you to go on?" Helen asked.

"Oh, yes. And Miss Grace has been very encouraging. But when I look at the rest of you girls and hear your bright talk, I feel so out of place."

"I have a belief that school is the help to enable us to find our right places in the world if we take it up earnestly. I meant it shall help me to find mine," confidently. "And I do think, yes, I am sure it will help you."

"I was so discouraged. I wrote to Mrs. Howard and she said stay by all means. Indeed, I have no place to go to. Mrs. Davis is in Florida now. Oh, I should like to travel!" and her face was roused almost to enthusiasm.

"But you wouldn't want to be an ignorant traveler, either." And she thought how Mrs. Van Dorn enjoyed and understood. She would have felt still more encouraged for her compeer, had she known what Mrs. Van Dorn was at nineteen.

They talked until it was dusk, when the bell rang and arm in arm they went to the dining room. Miss Grace was placing girls together in a more sociable fashion.

"Suppose you and Miss Beck come over here," she said with a little wave of the hand to Miss Craven, and giving a nod to Miss Beck. "And Miss Grant, I think you are put down for the hostess next month. Suppose you begin now?"

Helen smiled and went to the head of the table. Miss Craven took her seat next. "Oh," she murmured, deprecatingly, "I hope it will never come my turn."

"Why, it is not much to do, only to see that everything comes right."

The girls talked of to-morrow. Miss Beck was an Episcopalian, and described how prettily the little church was trimmed, how beautiful the morning service had been, and that most of it would be repeated. In the evening some anthems were to be sung and Phillips Brooks' beautiful hymn, "Oh, Little Town of Bethlehem." And on Monday at four a Christmas tree for the children. Perhaps they would like to go?

Miss Craven's eyes kindled a little and she looked at Helen, as if she might answer for her.

"We shall be very glad to," was Helen's ready reply.

The eyes thanked her timidly.

Afterward they assembled in the drawing room and sang Christmas hymns to the accompaniment of the grand piano. Two of the young ladies recited.

"I don't believe I've ever had such a nice time in my life," Juliet Craven said with her good-night. "You don't know how sincerely I thank you."

To be thanked for a little courtesy like that! Helen stood before the glass, thinking.

"I wonder," she said to the reflection, "if you could have had that much courage with the rest of the girls about? It was very easy to-day, and it is what ought to be done oftener. I wonder why they all took me up so cordially, and why they should have surmised so many wrong things about her. I dare say her father and mother were ordinarily nice people, and I am glad there is nothing disgraceful about them. There are quite a good many queer old people in the world—I'm sure Roxy tells things about her old great-aunt and laughs over them, that do not sound kindly, if they are amusing. I wish old people always were agreeable," and she sighed. "But young people are not either," and she smiled with a revulsion of mood. "I am glad, too, that she isn't any older. Nineteen. There are not more than a half dozen girls in the school as old as that. What a pity one can't be turned back!"

Helen thought she had never enjoyed a Sunday more. Most of the girls went with Mrs. Aldred in the morning, and Mr. Danforth was certainly in a Christmas frame of mind. They had luncheon around the large table across the end of the dining room, and afterward a talk of the Jews and Romans at the time of the coming of Christ. Helen had never thought much of sacred and serious subjects, but her heart seemed to expand and glow with a fervor she had hitherto known nothing about. If education widened one's view, should not religion do something for it also?

The evening service moved her still more deeply. And she went to sleep with the music of four lives floating through her brain:

"Yet in thy dark street shineth
The everlasting Light,
The hopes and fears of all the years,
Are met in thee to-night."

The children's Christmas tree was another pleasure. And when Helen returned there was a box that had been sent across the water with some pretty laces and a fine neck-chain and charm. It seemed to bring Paris much nearer. Her letter, too, was very enjoyable. Mrs. Van Dorn was glad to have her feel at home and study with energy. But she wanted her to go at French just as soon as she possibly could, and pay close attention to it. She, Mrs. Van Dorn, was going to start for Southern France the beginning of the year and would have a restful time after the jaunting about. Helen must write freely of herself and the friends she was making, as well as her progress in every study.

The week was a pleasant one to those who stayed at school. Miss Reid and Miss Bigelow both painted on snow scenes taken at different points. Miss Reid's had a gray sky with one streak of light down in the southwest that gave the somber picture a really beautiful effect; Miss Bigelow's was the sun shining through an opening in some trees and glistening on the frosted snow. Miss Craven kept on with her lessons, though she took several walks with Helen. Westchester put on quite a holiday attire. The Literary Society gave a reading from Dickens' "Christmas Stories," and there was a church tea and sociable, but no persuasion could induce Miss Craven to attend it, though Helen and a number of the girls accompanied Miss Aldred.

Mrs. Aldred was much engrossed looking over reports, and re-arranging classes, designating the girls who were to go at the French table, and making a few changes. For it sometimes seemed as if all the real work began after Christmas.

"There will be a vacancy at your table," she said to Helen, who had been consulting her on some studies. "I wonder if you have any choice as to who fills it?"

"Who is going away?" the girls asked.

"Miss Mays. She should have gone in September, but she begged off," and Mrs. Aldred gave a little smile.

"If the others would have no objection to Miss Craven——" hesitatingly.

"They would have no right to object," gravely.

"But would I have a right to make a selection for the others?" and a flush crept up to her forehead.

"Not a right," in a pleasant tone. "I offer it as a privilege."

"Then I do think Miss Craven would like it. We have been making friends," smiling and yet perplexed a little, desiring not to seem officious.

"I hoped you would choose her, for her own good. Yes, I have been noticing the sort of intimacy, the first preference she has evinced for anyone, though I think you must have kindly made the overtures."

Helen flushed brightly, but did not emphasize her claim.

"I have been much puzzled over the case. My daughter Grace and I have discussed it frequently, and in some ways I have felt very much discouraged. A friend besought me to take her, explaining that she was a simple-hearted country girl, who had had no advantages of education and was extremely anxious to be fitted for her position; that she was afraid she had fallen into the wrong hands, her guardian's wife being a rather pretentious woman of fashion. Miss Craven is a somewhat curious compound of qualities, and on several lines remarkably intelligent, but clearly she does not make the best use of that quality."

Mrs. Aldred had been watching the changes in Helen's face as she talked, wondering if this girl, not yet fifteen, could comprehend. And now she paused as if expecting some comment.

"She is so afraid of nearly everything, everybody," began Helen. "And yet I think it took real courage to try school life——" and she paused, glancing up with some hesitation.

"That was the point that commended her to me. Mrs. Davis was opposed to it and suggested private teachers. Mrs. Howard thought she desired to keep the whole control and supervision of the girl, and I, too, consider it a brave resolve on her part. I was very much interested in Mrs. Howard's account, though I had in my mind the ordinary country girl whose education had been neglected. And when she came I really was puzzled to know where to place her. She could not affiliate with the girls of her age, and it would be too mortifying to be put with those so much younger. So there was nothing but for her to find her own level, to choose or be chosen by some friendly disposed girl. She will make an excellent scholar in time. She is very modest. I could wish she had not quite so much humility. One would never suppose she was an heiress already, having a much larger income than she can spend now, and the certainty of being a rich woman five years hence. But she has a great fear of being tolerated for the money's sake. There are girls who would make it a strong point. So it seems as if in this friendship matter I had to let her quite alone, though I have thought of two or three girls who might take her up if they would. I have learned, however," and she smiled a little, "that you cannot control these matters. Girls' likes and dislikes are largely impulses of the present mood, and a belief in self-knowledge, which they outgrow, fortunately. So I have been much pleased to see you two drift together. Did she tell you her story?"

"Yes—at least she went briefly over it," returned Helen.

"She has not a girl's usual gift of elaboration, and that is a good quality to miss, though years and experience do mend it. It is unfortunate to begin life with the idea that you have had more trials or sorrows or struggles, or even more joys and prosperity than anyone else. Her life has been hard, but she has let it all drop behind her and wants to press on to the next best, to something a great deal better;" and an approving light shone in the elder woman's eyes. "She has a decided gift for music, for certain kinds of literature, poetry especially, though I do not think a casual observer would credit her with that. She has some concise business ideas and works hard at mathematics. Perhaps the shrewdness is one good quality she inherits from her grandfather. She is an excellent reader, and it is fortunate that school training can direct these tastes rather than the gossip and novels of fashionable life. Although I was absolutely discouraged at first, I feel now that after a year or two she will compare favorably with the average girl. Of course we are all fond of the superior girls who do credit to a school, but they are not very lavishly distributed."

"I am glad she is going to do so well," and Helen's face was bright with generous emotions. "Only, she keeps looking at girls of her age, and is rather discouraged because she is so far behind."

"And friendship, contact with other girls, is what she needs. I sometimes think if girls could only understand all they might do for each other in the little things of life, the comfort they might be in some sorrowful moment, the strength in some weak moment, they would hardly hold aloof in their best qualities and give out the trifles that are merely husks. I meant this to be a different kind of talk," and a sweet look pervaded the eyes and crossed the lips, lingering there. "I wanted to thank you for your interest in her. Of all the girls I had considered as a friend to her I had not thought of you, perhaps because you were so much younger. She ought not be much over fourteen either. And I must give you one word of—shall I call it counsel or advice?" studying the eager face. "Do not allow yourself to be laughed out of what I believe will be a good work, and do not get vexed or irritated because you cannot make others see Miss Craven with your eyes. She has given you her confidence, and withheld it from the others. I wish you success in your new undertaking, and I am much pleased with your industry."

"And I am very happy," returned Helen with a glowing face and luminous eyes, as she made a pretty inclination of the head.

Mrs. Aldred fell into musing when she was gone.

"If one knew just what Mrs. Van Dorn meant to do with the girl, whether to educate her for some purpose, or merely to have her fitted for an agreeable companion; but it would seem a positive sin to tie such a mind to an old woman's whims and pleasures. However, here are the two years in which one may work."

On Saturday the whole place was astir with the returning girls, and the merry chatter pervaded every corner and room. There were stories to tell of the "perfectly lovely" time one and another had had, of the gifts and gayeties, and rather wry faces over the changes.

"And I have to go to the French table, and I just know I shall starve," moaned Roxy Mays. "There's Miss Law to keep me company, but she declares she will talk straight ahead right or wrong. And is it possible that you have that wooden head next to your elbow, Helen Grant? I would have protested."

"I am here to obey the rules and usages of the school," answered Helen gravely.

"Are you going to call her grandmother or great-aunt, or mother-in-law?"

"By her rightful name, Miss Craven."

"Well, I wish you joy of her. It almost compensates me for having to ask in French for every mouthful I eat, and inquire if the day is fair, if the door is locked, and if you have found the book of my friend. She will not even venture upon that. And what have you been doing the whole poky week?"

"It hasn't seemed a bit poky. I have practiced scales and fingerings, and gone into the early stages of French," answered Helen gayly.

"Aha! Well, I've just put in all the fun I could. Two very young people's parties, a grand concert, and to a euchre club that was delightful with the most charming partner with whom I established telegraphic communication. And just a lovely flirtation. What do you think? He asked if we might not correspond?"

Helen flushed, remembering her innocent attempt.

"Oh, you needn't look so indignant over it; and I am pretty sure one of my sisters is engaged. Perhaps I won't need to stay at school more than next year."

"I should be glad to stay five years," cried Helen enthusiastically.

Daisy Bell was on the other side of Helen, and she looked rather askance at the newcomer, making the least cool little bow.

"I've really wanted to get back to you," she began when they had gone to their room. "They laughed at me at home, and my brother said there must always be someone for a schoolgirl to adore, and that he thought I would pass the dangerous period safely, but that it had broken out with virulence," and she laughed with light-hearted amusement.

"Did you care as much about me as all that?" and Helen glanced out of tender eyes.

"Amend your tense, or tack present and future to it. I didn't know how much until I left you behind. And you've had a horrid dull time, I know," with charming solicitude in her voice.

"No, it has been rather gay, and the days flew by so rapidly."

"Oh, they always do in vacation. Next week will be as long as any two. I am glad we won't have any change this term, and I do hope we will keep together next year. Helen, I love you, love you!"

She clasped her arms about Helen's neck and kissed her rapturously, and the girl was deeply moved. Miss Mays made a patronizing half-love, you could not tell whether she was in earnest or not. But this clasp was so endearing, so full of fervor, and these kisses seemed to have the first rare sweetness in them that had come into her life. People had liked her she felt. Mrs. Dayton had been really affectionate, but this was different.

"Oh, Daisy!" she sighed from her full heart.

"You haven't positively loved any girl in school, I know. I think you are the kind of girl who doesn't love easily, but after I liked you I was awfully afraid you would go down to Roxy Mays. I ought to confess that I did last term. She is fascinating, but after a while you don't feel altogether sure of her. You are so strong and upright. And I don't want you to love anyone else quite as well; promise me."

"I am not likely to. No one else will want me to, I guess," rather tremulously, as another thought seemed to pierce through to her heart.

"Oh, they will, they will! You're so young, and you have something—I can't tell what it is, but you will find as you grow older people will lean on you and love you, too. I just want you to say—Daisy Bell, I love you the best of anybody I know."

"I can say that easily, but I don't know a great many people," Helen returned gravely.

"And that I shall always love you the best of anybody."

"Oh, Daisy, that is a sort of sacred thing to say. How can anyone tell——"

"I don't mean lovers or husbands, and you haven't any parents or sisters. Just here in the school—you will love me the best because I love you so. That is the highest claim."

"I will love you the best," Helen said almost solemnly.

Then a strange awesome feeling thrilled through Helen, and she wondered if it was right to promise away one's freedom, even in so simple a matter as loving a schoolmate.

"Oh, you dear, dear girl! Go to sleep and dream of me."