“I’m glad it’s Saturday,” said Cathalina sleepily the next morning, reaching out a hand across the space between her bed and Betty’s. Betty extracted a hand from beneath the warm covers and took Cathalina’s.

“Let’s not go to breakfast,” said lazy Betty. “I’m stiff from skating so much and we’ve got some fruit if we get hungry before lunch. We’re late anyhow. The rising bell rang ages ago.”

“Won’t we get a mark against us if we don’t appear?”

“I don’t think so, not on Saturday or Sunday, though we’ll be asked why.”

“All right, we’ll risk it. I’m proud of my record, though. Little Cathalina hasn’t missed a meal since she’s been here except on account of sickness.”

“And I suspect you hardly ever used to go down to breakfast at home in the days you were telling me about.”

“My, no. Poor Etta had a life with me before I came to Greycliff. I took a lot of waiting on. I like a certain amount of it yet, about clothes and hair and some things, but I like activity now and I didn’t want to do one thing! Still, I was about sick all the time.”

“I don’t want any activity this morning,” sighed Betty. “I don’t know when bed has felt so good. I’d like to try having a maid wait on me ... and fix my clothes ... and hair....” Betty dropped Cathalina’s hand and curled up to sleep again. It was a little while before Cathalina went back to her slumbers, but she too dropped off and neither wakened till long after nine o’clock, when they roused and began to talk.

“We haven’t heard a peep from Lilian or Hilary,” said Betty. “I wonder if they’re up and if they let the maid in.”

“O, well, we can clean up ourselves,” said Cathalina. “I’ve been lying awake a little while thinking about last night.”

“So have I,” said Betty.

“I didn’t tell you what a pleasant young officer sat on the other side of me. Lieutenant Maxwell talked to everybody, the girl on the other side of him or across the table, and once when Captain Van Horne’s lady was talking to some one else I had the best chat with him. He was with that new music teacher, Miss Hallowell, and he is a very superior person, Betty, is pretty dignified and serious, I think, but easy to talk to. He has the finest face, with the dearest smile and the most inspired eyes!”

“Mercy, Cathalina, this sounds serious. ‘Cathalina Van Buskirk Van Horne’! What a name!”

Cathalina laughed out. “It isn’t as serious as that, Betty, but after all it wouldn’t be any worse than that of my distinguished ancestor, ‘Maria Van Ness Van Buskirk,’ that married the first Martin Van Buskirk that came from Holland—”

“That lived in the house that Jack built,” finished Betty. “Go on. This is thrilling.”

“I’ll not tell you another thing if you don’t stop being so silly! I thought you’d be interested.”

“I am, awfully,” and Betty tried to smother her giggles.

“He spoke to me first about my name and our Holland ancestors. Holland was a great little country once, you know.”

“Isn’t it now?”

“I don’t know. It’s terribly afraid of Germany, they say. Well, I liked him so much. I felt just the way I do with Father and Phil, that you could trust him. I think he’s the finest of all the officers that were here. He talked so well and seemed to know so much.”

“‘Van Horne,’” repeated Betty, musingly. “I believe that is the man that Donald Hilton mentioned when we were talking about Captain Holley. He said almost the same thing that you did, and pointed him out to me, ‘Now there’s a man you can trust.’ Has he blue eyes and very dark brown hair—and is real tall?”

“Yes, but then there are other tall folks among the boys.”

“I think I saw him.”

Betty was in the midst of telling about her evening when a gentle knock sounded on their bedroom door. “Come right in,” called Betty, and Lilian appeared fully dressed.

“‘How long wilt thou sleep, O sluggard?’” she quoted, as she went over to put down their window. “‘Yet a little sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of the hands to rest.’ That is what Father always says to me when he calls me to get up after some party.”

“Have you and Hilary been up long?” asked Cathalina.

“Just got dressed. Have you anything to eat?”

“Yes. I’ll get it as soon as possible.”

“No hurry. We have some crackers and peanut butter and wondered if you had anything.”

“We have oranges, and we can make some cocoa.”

“Yes, if we can get a place to cook it. The hot plates will be popular this morning.”

“I’m due in the studio from eleven to twelve this morning.”

“Poor Cathalina! Hurry up and dress and come out to tell us all about last night. I’ll turn on your heat for you, too, almost forgot that. Wasn’t it a great old carnival?”

It was not long before the girls were all gathered in their little study room eating their somewhat scant lunch. They had given up making the cocoa, “Too much trouble,” said Hilary, “and it isn’t long till lunch.”

“We certainly are tired,” said Betty, “if even Hilary thinks it too much trouble to make cocoa.”

“I wish we had enough to take around to some of the other girls,” said Lilian. “They’re probably doing the same thing we are.” But Lilian had scarcely gotten these words out when a little rap came and Pauline’s head was peeping in.

“O, come on in, Pauline, there are several extra crackers here, and Hilary and I’ll divide my orange with you.”

Pauline was entirely within the door by this time and the girls saw that she carried a good-sized basket. “Excuse my appearance, ladies, but I didn’t take time to dress up, was afraid that you would be suffering for food, and this basket arrived yesterday from my sister. We are just getting about in our suite. I meant to save this till tonight, but thought that we really needed it more this morning.” Pauline threw back the papers and disclosed a large cake in a box, packed about with fruit of various sorts and other interesting packages. “Or can’t you eat cake in the morning?” she added.

“Pauline, you life-saver!” exclaimed Betty. “Of course we can eat cake!”

“And Eloise will be in in a minute with some cocoa for you. Get you cups ready. And may we ‘have the borry’ of your big knife to cut this?”

The girls flew around to find the knife and wash the cups free from dust. “I see that you have oranges,” said Pauline, “but you must have a banana apiece and some grapes, and look at these!”

“Doughnuts!” exclaimed Lilian. “Home-made!”

Amid the exclamations and thanks of the girls, Pauline put out some fruit upon a plate that Cathalina brought her, cut the cake in generous slices for each one, handed around the doughnuts, and with apologies for being hurried, disappeared. “I have to attend to my starving family,” said she, “though Eloise was the only one up when I left. The others will be waited upon in state.”

Eloise was warmly welcomed when she appeared with the steaming cocoa. “Perhaps we, too, might have had enough energy to make cocoa if we had had the inspiration of that basket,” said Hilary.

“I didn’t feel as sleepy as the rest,” replied Eloise, “and when I found that Helen had a little headache I thought she ought to have something hot, consequently I made this for the crowd.”

“How I regret eating those crackers, such a waste of space!” said Hilary, looking fondly at a doughnut.

“It does not trouble me,” said Betty, “I can’t see any effect upon my appetite. When you get through, come and tell us what sort of a time you had last night.”

“We will,” said Eloise, filling the last cup.

“Do you suppose that these wonderfully fresh doughnuts came all the way from the ranch?” asked Cathalina, after the departure of Eloise.

“O, no,” answered Lilian. “Her married sister lives somewhere in this state. I wish mine did.”

The ice carnival had promoted acquaintance with the cadets and officers at the military school, which was known as Grant Military Academy. Distance was too great for frequent calls, but not for occasional ones. Brothers and cousins could sometimes come to Greycliff for Sunday dinner, or called on Saturday afternoon. These calls became more frequent after the skating affair, nor were they limited entirely to relatives. Corporal Donald Hilton was related to Dorothy Appleton, but it was Betty Barnes for whom he asked on several occasions. Once Captain Van Horne called and asked to see Cathalina, who was greatly impressed and felt that she was quite grown up to have so mature a gentleman call upon her. For the girls thought that he must be “at least twenty-four or five.” Captain Holley was seen at Greycliff several times, and was very popular with the collegiate girls, to whom he made himself especially agreeable. Betty and Cathalina failed to understand what he was doing about that cave, but came to the conclusion that he must be all right if everybody else thought so.

“Captain Van Horne’s first name is Allen,” Cathalina informed Betty and Hilary one day after the important call. “He lives in New York, too, and knows where my father has his office and everything, but when I told him who my father was and all, I thought he seemed different. Do you suppose it was the old money? He had been telling me about how he happened to come to the school. He’s going to be a lawyer, and couldn’t afford to keep on going to law school right straight along, so he’s reading law and teaching for a while.”

“Maybe it was a little shock to be real interested in a girl and want to see something of her and then find that she had everything on earth,—if you were poor yourself.”

“It’s really against you, then, to have a rich father,” said Cathalina soberly.

“O, no, Cathalina,” exclaimed Hilary. “If anybody really cared for you, it couldn’t make any difference; you are so dear.”

“No, the poor boys can’t afford to get interested in girls that they feel they can’t do anything for. I’ll see what this one does, not that he has any serious ideas about matters, it is silly to think of it,—but, I mean, to call and pay some attention to a girl, you know. I’m not thinking of Captain Van Horne especially, but any young man.”

“Would your father want you to marry a poor man?”

“I’m sure I don’t know. I never thought of it before.”