When the girls gathered again at Greycliff after the winter vacation, there was much to tell. Lilian and Hilary exchanged confidences, and Cathalina told Betty all about her vacation days, and the romance surrounding Philip and Lilian. Lilian had left her ring at home with her mother, for safe keeping and lest she be tempted to wear it. But her “chains” she wore constantly, and took great comfort in the thought that Philip considered them quite as binding as a ring. She was quite sober at times, plunged into her work with determination, finding time, however, for two long letters a week to Philip, and wrote more poetry than ever.

Virginia’s candy went off like hot cakes, as she said, giving her a comfortable little sum to begin on. She planned to make more of the popular varieties every Saturday. In a talk with Miss Randolph, she was assured that she might pay over what she had at the beginning of the next semester, and wait to settle finally until the end. This relieved her mind of all immediate worry, for there was a prospect of her winning one of the prizes. Affairs might prove better with her father also, by that time, and meanwhile she would earn and save all she could. She had a complete outfit for mending, with all shades of thread, silk or cotton, and plenty of darning cotton. Her business descended upon her “like the wolf on the fold,” she said.

“Talk about one’s business growing! I don’t even need to advertise. I didn’t know there were so many lazy girls that hate to do anything for themselves!” Here Virginia cocked her head on one side. “That isn’t really true, though, Isabel. I know all you girls have planned to waste your pin money on me by having as much done as possible. I’ll have to make a new schedule of hours, and see how much time I can afford to spend on this without neglecting my lessons.”

“And you must plan to take enough exercise, too, Virgie,” said Isabel. “It wouldn’t pay to get sick.”

“No; but a little skating and skiing will give me what I need, with the walking to and from class, and I want to get ahead on funds while it is winter, before the lovely days come in the spring. I thought perhaps I could get one of the bird prizes, too, for an original description and a long bird list. Has the list of prizes been posted yet?”

“I haven’t seen anything of it! I think it should be pretty soon, though, if there is anything new, so we could be working toward it.”

“If I can just get the academy diploma I shall be partly satisfied. I think I could get some country school to teach out near home, where I could see Father occasionally, and perhaps I could go to college later.”

“Cathalina told me that her Aunt Katherine talked last Commencement time with Miss Randolph about some collegiate scholarships to be offered by Cathalina’s father, just as they have in high schools, you know. Now, if that happens, you will know that they weren’t just established for you.”

“No, that would be all right. But Miss Randolph did not say a word about anything like that.”

“Probably they aren’t ready to announce them yet, though you would think that they would in the fall.”

“Not if the idea is new and undecided. I’m working as hard as I can, anyhow, on all my lessons. You ought to get the first prize for scholarship, Isabel. I shall not be a bit jealous of you. I have had too much to make up; but if they give several scholarships I ought to get one, I think.”

Betty had been up in Canada with her mother during the vacation, and came back with stories of skating, skiing, and all sorts of winter sports.

“We went on account of my aunt, you know. She is so worried about the boys in France all the time, and is getting thin trying not to show it. But I had the most wonderful time. I know so many of the young folks up there.”

“Didn’t you ’most freeze?” asked Pauline. This was at the first meeting of the Psyche Club in the beginning of the second week of school.

“No, indeed; you dress for it. And I don’t see that it is so much farther north than this, after all.”

“Did your skis get here, all right, girls?” asked Juliet, of Isabel and Virginia.

“Yes. We tried walking on them Saturday. But I don’t see how we are going to do much more than that!”

“I’ll show you,” offered Betty. “Do your brothers know how, Isabel?”

“Pretty well. It’s a new sport in the town, and they haven’t any very good hills there. I feel so clumsy with my skis on—don’t see how you ever manage them.”

“It is like everything else, you have to learn. How did you learn to stand up with skates on? Oh, it’s just wonderful when you learn to take those jumps, with your pole to balance you—you feel as if you are flying!”

“Until you come down!”

“Yes, but you learn to land just right. Of course, there will be accidents, but if the snow is deep and soft it doesn’t hurt to take a tumble once in a while. Let’s all go out and practice Saturday. Can you spare the time, Virginia?”

“Oh, yes; I’ll have to take a little recreation on Saturdays. I’m planning to make one or two batches of candy on Friday afternoon, after classes.”

“I’ll help you with the nuts, Virgie,” said Isabel. “And if we get up early Saturday, you can have your candy made and sold by noon. All of us will be busy in the morning.”

“Speaking of skiing, girls,” said Lilian, “I have the most lovely song. Perhaps you have seen it or heard it, Eloise. I learned it this vacation. ‘My Lover, He Comes on the Skee,’ it is called. It is a Norwegian love-song.”

“No, I haven’t it,” said Eloise.

“We must try it, then.”

“Don’t expect me to play it for you,” said Cathalina, with a gesture of dismissal as far as she was concerned. “It has an awful accompaniment.”

“‘Awful!’” exclaimed Lilian. “It is beautiful—the most inspiring, rippling thing!”

“I mean, my dear, that it is hard to play. Here it is,” said Cathalina, lifting a pile of books to take the sheet of music from the table. “Look at those runs, Hilary. Do you blame me? But Philip, of course, played it easily.”

“The accompaniment is half of its attraction,” said Lilian, exhibiting the song to Eloise, who was naturally interested and hummed the air as they went through it. “You get a picture of the action in every line, and I love it where it repeats ‘the wind in his wake is singing.’ Then, here at the end it is so effective.”

Cathalina turned to Hilary with a smile, saying aside, “‘I love thee’ is repeated several times, with growing emphasis! Of course she and Philip sang that in unison! But it really is a glorious love-song, and Lilian’s voice is so clear and full on it. No wonder she likes it. Phil gave it to her. I don’t think it has been out very long.”

“Let’s go down to the Shakespearean Hall and try it over,” suggested Isabel. “I have the key.”

“But who’ll play it?” asked Cathalina.

“Evelyn will try it, I know,” said Hilary. “She can play anything at sight.”

“So can you, Hilary,” said loyal Lilian, “but it will be fine if Evelyn will do it. Will you, Evelyn?”

“What is it?” asked Evelyn, who had been talking to Olivia. “Oh, that? Yes, I know it. The voice teacher gave that to one of the senior girls just before the holidays. I played the accompaniment for her two or three times.”

For several days the girls hummed or sang the song, and made ready to go skiing on “high hill,” as they called it, the hill back of Greycliff’s buildings, which sloped away from the direction of the river over a broad expanse of unfenced land. It was not steep enough to be dangerous for the girls, the authorities had concluded, and on Saturday afternoon a number of the girls gathered there, some of them to learn, others to enjoy a sport to which they were accustomed. There were, indeed, several hills from which to make a start, and this proved good for the learners. They could practice without getting in the way of the more experienced.

Isabel and Virginia were laughing over their various attempts, and Betty was alternately showing them with great patience and shooting down the hill herself, when a group of young men came round from behind Greycliff, making for the brow of the hill. “Look!” exclaimed one of the girls. “There are a lot of boys with their German professor!”

“They have gotten permission at Greycliff to use the hill,” said another. “Do you suppose we’ll have to go?”

“Of course not,” replied the first. “Miss Randolph knew we were out here. Unless she sends for us, we can stay.”

More life was naturally infused into the scene when the boys began to take part. Greetings were exchanged between those who knew each other, and Captain Holley watched with interest the flying figure of Betty, who happened to have started down hill before they arrived. Hastily adjusting his own skis, he was next on the track and arrived in time to help Betty uphill again. Poor Donald Hilton was having trouble with his skis and watched the handsome young officer, whom he now considered his rival with Betty, with rising wrath. A graceful figure Rudolph Holley made as he started down the long track again. His staff in air, he jumped as only a practised performer could do, while Betty and the other girls watched admiringly.

Betty was not aware how unsatisfactory her manner was to Donald that afternoon. He came up to visit with her, and they chatted together on different topics, but he found her too much interested in skiing to permit of much visiting. She had no idea that Donald had anything special on his mind, having asked him at first if he had found out who had fixed his room before the military reception. He had replied that one of the boys had owned up to it, and she had taken that as final. Donald, however, had much more to tell, but the circumstances were not propitious. Donald could do well himself on the skis, but there was something the matter with one this afternoon. He barely saved himself from a bad tumble the first time, and considered that he had been about as awkward as a beginner. This before Betty did not please him, particularly since there was such a handsome expert in the group.

On Betty’s part there was her great love for winter sports. She was much interested in Donald, liked him, felt happy when she was with him, and had confidence in him. But she was not in love, in spite of the romance of their first meeting. Probably neither Donald nor Betty had analyzed their feelings at this stage. It was youth and young romance, and nothing very serious. To Betty life was full of good times. Donald, too, had his friends among the boys, and many a jolly performance was staged at the military school. Before the girls left, however, Donald had opportunity to ask Betty if he might call.

“Yes, indeed,” said she. “I rather expected you before the holidays—that is, you said you were coming.”

“I know it, and you were good to say I might come, but I had all those demerits and I could not prove that I had not done those things myself. Consequently, I am on probation for the rest of the time before Christmas. Didn’t you get my note?”

“No. Did you write one?”

“I certainly did. That makes another queer thing.”

“Perhaps you didn’t address it correctly.”

“I don’t see how I could help it. I think I can get off next week Friday or Saturday, and will telephone to make sure. Will I have to write to Miss Randolph?”

“We are allowed calls on Saturday afternoon. Just send in your card to Miss Randolph, with my name, too. What time will you come?”

“About three o’clock.”

“I shall be ready to see you at that time, then. Don’t get any more demerits!”

“No, not if I can help it. I remember that the ice carnival will be held again some day. May I speak to skate with you?”

“Does the best skater in the military school have any doubts as to that?”

“Meaning me?”

“Meaning you.”

Somewhat consoled for his lack of prowess in skiing that afternoon, Donald determined to keep from demerits, as Betty had urged, to buy a new pair of skis, and to practice his more favorite diversion, the skating, that he might not lost first place in that.