As the “Fudge Club” opposition to Hilary as captain of the Junior Academy basketball team did not prove serious, she had been elected with very little campaigning on the part of her friends; for it was clear to all the girls that she was the best one for the office.

“Hilary knows the game, has lots of go and good sense and never loses her head!” So Juliet summed up the necessary characteristics of a good captain. Practice went on vigorously after the election to prepare for the tournaments, which would not take place until February.

Thanksgiving came and went. Hilary went home to eat Thanksgiving dinner with her people and came back Saturday. As Philip Junior could not come home, Cathalina’s father and mother, who could not wait any longer to see her, visited Greycliff. Although they knew that Cathalina was well and happy, they were not quite prepared to see the active little girl who greeted them, and their pleasure can be imagined. “I’ve gained ten pounds, Mothery, and can hardly get into my clothes!” How proud she was of her beautiful, friendly mother and quiet, distinguished looking father! She brought her friends to meet them until Madame Sylvia said that she felt like a girl herself. A few of the teachers and girls who, like Hilary, lived comparatively near, had gone home or to house parties; but most of the Greycliff folk remained and were served to turkey and all the accompaniments of a fine Thanksgiving dinner.

Hilary was back in time to meet Cathalina’s parents before they left, and to her surprise and delight was invited to spend the Christmas vacation in New York. “O, Cathalina,” she cried afterward, “it must be a gl-orious dream! to visit in New York!”

“Maybe you’ll be disappointed.”

“O, no, I won’t. I’ve never been to any real big city, like New York or Chicago; it takes money to travel.”

“I suppose it does,” assented Cathalina, who was learning several things this year. Many truths, too, which she had known only in theory were here displayed before her eyes; for example, what she had so often heard at home, that money can not supply brains or character, both of which are valuable in the classroom.

So the busy days went by. Snow and ice shrouded the charms of Greycliff. The voice of the lake grew louder, but that of the little river was stilled, and after school hours, flying skaters in green, blue, red or orange sweaters, or in gay mackinaws glided up or down stream. The war was on in Europe, but the hearts of the young people in America were still light.

Then came a day when the last class was over, packing completed, and Cathalina and Hilary on their way to New York. They felt very old and important to be traveling “on their own hook”, as Hilary expressed it. To be sure, for the first five or six hours, five or six other Greycliff girls kept them company. An art teacher, also, was their chaperone to the place where they changed to the through train. Then Philip was to meet them at the New York Central station and see them home. However, for most of the way they were taking care of themselves and held on to their purses and tickets for dear life.

“I never felt so stylish, Cathalina! Wasn’t Aunt Hilary a dear to send me these lovely furs?”

“You are as sweet as can be, Hilary. That dark red coat is so becoming, with your pink cheeks. I’ll have to rub mine.”

Hilary gave Cathalina an admiring glance. “Why, you always look as if you came from ‘Pahree’! And you are the beauty with that grey-blue coat and those sweet furs. You must pose as the spirit of Greycliff in our tableaux. Is my hat on straight? I’ll never get over my surprise when I opened Aunt Hilary’s Christmas package.”

“It was nice of them all to send your Christmas presents before you left.”

“They knew I needed ’em,—blessed people!”

“Philip will enjoy a taste of June’s cream candy. Nobody at our house can make anything like it.”

“Give him all he can eat, then.” But Hilary had her suspicions by this time that at the Van Buskirk home Cathalina and Philip could have the best of candy or anything else they wanted.

There was a furious snow storm outside. People who came in shook off snow and breezes of stinging air penetrated even to the comfortable coach in which the two girls were cosily settled. Cathalina had visions of stalled trains and delays such as she had known before. But she said nothing of her fears to Hilary and was relieved when, as they sped on, the snow stopped.

It was Hilary’s first experience on a sleeper. At first she thought she never could go to sleep. But at last the novelty wore off and the monotonous noise of the car wheels lulled her to sleep. She knew no more till Cathalina wakened her. “Hurry up, Hilary, we must get dressed as quickly as possible. I overslept. O, you needn’t rush, but don’t waste any time. If you look out you see the beautiful old Hudson in its winter dress. We are coming down on the east side.”

“We needed our little alarm clock, didn’t we?” and Hilary chuckled at the thought of an alarm clock on a sleeper.

But Cathalina, who often took Hilary’s jokes seriously, replied, “We could have had the porter call us.” Leadership was reversed now. Hilary, who guided Cathalina with kindness and efficiency through the mysteries of school life was glad to follow Cathalina’s superior knowledge of what to do when traveling. They found that there was more time than they had supposed, for the train was late; and for some time after their berth was again converted into the ordinary Pullman seat they sat watching the wintry scenery. The obsequious attentions of the porter to Cathalina and, indeed, to herself, amused Hilary very much. She had rather opened her eyes at the tip she saw Cathalina give him the evening before. She, too, had learned something, not so valuable, perhaps, as some of Cathalina’s lessons, about the extra attention which money can secure. The porter brushed them off, took their bags, and in a moment it seemed, they were out of the train and hurrying with the crowd.

“There’s Phil!” said Cathalina joyously, though Hilary noticed at once how quiet was her voice and manner. “I guess they don’t shout across the street at each other in New York,” she thought with her usual humor.

“Is this Miss Lancaster?”

“My brother, Hilary,” and Hilary looked up into the smiling face of Philip Van Buskirk Junior. The checks were passed over to the chauffeur, Hilary received a confused impression of the big station, and then found herself being helped into a comfortable, warm car and tucked in rugs by this same handsome host who kept up a good-humored flow of conversation with Cathalina. She was one question mark at first, according to Phil, who gave her an account of himself and the family as she inquired. Hilary was too much interested in the sights and sounds of the city to say an unnecessary word.

“The streets are in pretty good shape considering the snow we’ve had,” Philip was saying.

“It isn’t so cold today either,” added Cathalina. “O, dear old New York! I’m so glad to be home again!”

“And how glad Mother and Father will be to have you, Cat, nobody but me—”

“O, please don’t call me that, Phil! I did hope that none of the girls would ever hear that nickname!” Cathalina gave Hilary an imploring look.

Hilary responded nobly. “I’ll never tell, or call you that myself,” she declared.

“Kathleen, then,” said Phil, laughing. “Is that better?”

“Yes; and if it is sentimental I like it best when you call me Kathleen Mavourneen.”

“O, that’s just because it makes me think of the song, you know,” and Phil looked at Cathalina teasingly. But Cathalina slipped her arm through his and he patted her hand.

Hilary was quite impressed and wondered if either of her brothers could ever be as much like her father as Philip was like Mr. Van Buskirk. “It doesn’t look much like it now,” she thought, recalling the often grimy hands and boisterous speech of Gordon and Tom. Stealing a glance at Philip, she concluded that he did not look like a “sissy-boy” either, and that the little chaps would change when the time came. She felt as if she were in a dream as she was whirled along to stop before a fine mansion in a picturesque setting of snow-covered shrubbery and trees.

The two girls tripped up the steps, Philip following to ring the bell for them. “Sorry not to stop now,” said he, “but Father has a matter for me to look after as soon as possible.” Touching his hat, Philip started back to the car as the smiling Watts opened the door and received the bags from the chauffeur.

“Deserted!” cried Cathalina, “but that’s the way with boys.” Then as they entered the warm, beautiful hall, there was Mrs. Van Buskirk hurrying to meet them.

“And here’s my other girl!” she said, drawing Hilary also into motherly arms. “Cold?”

“No, but hungry,” replied Cathalina. “We slept late and have quite an appetite, at least I have. Do we have to wait?”

“No, indeed,” and Mrs. Van Buskirk led the way to the dining room.

“Hot chocolate, Mamma?” Cathalina suggested.

Hot chocolate there was with other good things duly served, while Mrs. Van Buskirk wondered and was thankful to see her little girl eat with the normal school girl’s appetite.

Hilary felt almost lost as she slipped through the big rooms with Cathalina. Etta was unpacking when the girls reached Cathalina’s room.

“Where are Hilary’s things?”

“In the rose room, Miss Cathalina; I just finished in there.”

“Mother’s given you the room across from mine, Hilary,—will you be lonesome? If you are, you can come and sleep with me.”

“O, no,” Hilary answered. “I’ve always had to share my room with June or little Mary, so it will be lovely to have a room of my own—though, of course, I’d love to be with you.”

Cathalina laughed. “I understand perfectly, Hilary. Come and see how you like it.”

“O, what a dear of a room!” Hilary stopped just inside to feast her eyes.

“I like this room too, and came very near taking it after it was decorated; but blue is my color, after all, and I stick to my own room.”

The rose room was not quite so large as Cathalina’s. Its furniture and woodwork were of some very dark wood, Hilary did not know what. She had an impression of handsome furniture, pale pink to rose color upon white or gray tones, in walls and draperies. Pink and white silk curtains were at the windows. The dainty dressing table was fitted with silver.

“Now I’m going to leave you to yourself for a little while, Hilary,—we can clean up and I feel like another nap before lunch. There is paper and everything in the desk there if you want to write home. Do you want Etta to help you with your bath?”

“Mercy no!” said frank Hilary, “I wouldn’t know what to do being waited on.”

“All right. I see she has put everything out that you’ll need. Better just get into bed for a little while like me. I’ll have her get the bath ready for you.”

Cathalina rang for Etta, showing Hilary where the various conveniences of the room were, then thankfully went into her own room to wait for Etta to come to her. “O, how good it is to be home!”

Meanwhile Hilary walked around the exquisite room and peeped into its tiled bathroom. From the windows she looked out on snow-covered roofs and a far-stretching city. Next, she investigated the bureau and chiffonier drawers where Etta had neatly placed her clothing. In the closet her frocks hung in a row on silken hangers.

“I see why Cathalina used to catch herself up sometimes when she started to say things! Of course I knew that she must have a nice home, but I did not dream of this.” She stood before a long mirror for a moment, seeing a pretty, wholesome, vigorous looking girl, with a frank, attractive face, clear, steady grey eyes and a pleasant mouth.

“I shall have to pinch myself to make sure I’m not dreaming all this elegance. I wonder what they are doing at home!” Hilary went back to the window where she sat looking out wistfully. “It will be my first Christmas away from home. I hope they’ll miss me,—but there, this will never do!” She hopped up to avoid tears which would not be appropriate at all in a girl who was having as delightful an opportunity as was hers on this visit, and going to the desk she began a letter home.

“Just think,” she wrote, “here I am in New York, going to ride down Broadway—and Fifth Avenue—and Riverside Drive—and see the statue of Liberty holding up her little old torch, and go to the top of the Woolworth building, and who knows what else? I’ll remember and tell you everything!” But just here Etta came in and no more was written till bath and a long nap had refreshed two tired little girls.