Soon after entering Hilton Seminary, Katherine was invited, as was customary, to become a member of the "Junior League," a secret club or society organized and sustained by the junior class. Its object was twofold. First: improvement, to keep themselves informed of and in touch with current events and literature; and, second: sociability.

But it was hinted, now and then, by some of the more serious- minded members, that "a rollicking good time" had more attractions for the majority of its constituents than anything else.

Their meetings were held once a fortnight, when some member was expected to read a paper on a subject previously selected by a committee appointed for that purpose, after which a short time was spent in a general discussion of the theme, then the remainder of the evening was given over to social enjoyment; or, occasionally, to "a spread," which is so dear to every boarding school girl's heart.

Twice during the year the league formally entertained the faculty and the "Senior League," a similar organization, which as often returned these courtesies.

Katherine accepted the invitation with thanks, and at once threw herself heartily into the methods employed to entertain the club, particularly into the literary work, always carefully preparing herself upon the subject to be discussed. But she soon found that the main object of the organization was being perverted, the topics being superficially written up and argued, except by a very few. Less and less attention was being devoted to improvement and more to a good time, together with much school gossip, until the meetings were fast becoming a farce.

She deeply regretted this, and talked it over with some others as earnest as herself, but without achieving any satisfactory results. Upon one or two occasions she gave a thoughtfully prepared synopsis of the subject, but these efforts were received with shrugs, nudges and significant smiles and glances; and, while no one was openly discourteous to her, it was evident that, with a few exceptions, she was still regarded as a person to be shunned even by her own club.

One evening, on making her appearance, she observed that there was an unusual flutter among the wilder members of the league, and that she at once became the object of their curious regard.

The exercises progressed as usual until the discussion was over, when, as was the custom, the president called upon the chairman of the literary committee to announce the topic and the name of the member to treat it for the next meeting.

The chairman arose and said, while an ominous silence fell upon the room:

"Miss Minturn has been appointed to give us a paper for our next gathering, and the subject chosen is, 'Christian Science and Its Transcendental Tendency.'"

An audible titter ran around the room as this announcement was made, and every eye was fastened upon Katherine, who instantly suspected the situation had been planned for the sole purpose of making her uncomfortably conspicuous and bringing her beloved Science before the club simply to be ridiculed.

She was naturally quick-tempered, though years of discipline had taught her how to hold herself well in hand upon most occasions. But now, for the moment, her whole soul arose in arms and was ready to flash. forth in fiery indignation.

She flushed crimson and a dangerous gleam leaped into her usually gentle eyes, while she trembled from head to foot.

"See! it has hit her in a tender spot!" whispered Ollie Grant to
Sadie Minot. "Look out, now, for a tempest from Miss Propriety!
Won't it be fun?"

But the unaccustomed emotion passed almost as quickly as it had come. It was like the flash of summer heat that is followed by no thunder. Her momentary resentment was bravely quelled, and, after a brief denial of error, she arose to her feet, the flush still hot on her cheeks, but a sunny smile parting her red lips and chasing the temper from her eyes.

"Lady President and comrades," she began, bowing first to the presiding officer, then to her companions, and there was not the slightest evidence of anger in her sweetly modulated tones, "there is nothing that I love more than Christian Science, and if I thought you also were really interested in it, and I could, consistently, give you some information regarding it, it would give me great pleasure to do so. But you are not interested in it- -you do not believe in it; many of you think it absurdly transcendental, as your topic indicates. Thus you have nothing but ridicule for it. So you can understand that what is very sacred to me I could not discuss in such an antagonistic atmosphere. Besides—"

"Oh, but we really do want to learn something about it," here interposed Ollie Grant, as she gave Sadie a nudge with her elbow, "and—and"—with mock demureness—"if we have wrong ideas about it, why, you can perhaps set us right."

"I am sure it would be very interesting," Clara Follet observed, with a sly wink at her nearest neighbor; "it is so—mysterious and—creepy; like spiritualism, you know."

Katherine had seen both nudge and wink; but neither now had power to move her to any feeling save that of compassion for the thoughtless offenders.

"You are entirely mistaken, Miss Follet," she gently returned. "Christian Science and spiritualism are as far removed from each other as the Poles. But I repeat, I cannot give you a paper on the subject you have assigned me."

"Do I understand, Miss Minturn, that you absolutely refuse to respond to the appointment?" gravely inquired the president, while whispered comments and an excited rustle were heard from various parts of the room.

"Miss Walton, I must," said Katherine, firmly.

"Do you know the penalty of such a refusal?" the presiding officer queried, while Katherine started and colored crimson as she continued: "Any member of the league refusing to comply with an appointment made by its committee is subject to expulsion."

"Provided there is no good reason for such a refusal, I believe the by-law reads," here interposed a young lady who was beginning to feel sorry for Katherine, for she knew that she was simply being "made game of" by those who held her religious belief in derision.

"Yes, certainly. If you can give a good and sufficient reason for the stand you have taken, Miss Minturn, you will, of course, be excused," the president supplemented, realizing there was something in the atmosphere which she did not understand, as she had no knowledge of the plot that had been concocted by the mischief-loving element of the league.

"I think I have already given a good reason," Katherine observed, with quiet dignity; "Christian Science is my religion, and I have been asked to treat it as transcendentalism, and—I am inclined to think—in a perverted sense of that term. Can I be expected to hold my religion up for ridicule? I do not refuse the appointment to write a paper; it is the subject that I decline."

"I claim that Miss Minturn's reason is 'good and sufficient,' and I move that she be excused," said Miss Clark, the young lady who had previously spoken in Katherine's behalf.

The excitement was increasing, and the president was obliged to rap vigorously for order before she could make herself heard.

"Does anyone second Miss Clark's motion?" she inquired.

It was somewhat timidly seconded by a weak voice from one corner of the room; but when put to vote the hands were three to one against it.

Could it be possible, Katherine asked herself in sudden dismay, that certain members of the league were taking this way to get rid of her? Why, then, had they invited her to join it in the first place?

"It seems, Miss Minturn, that you cannot be excused," Miss Walton observed, with a deprecatory smile.

Katherine did not mean to be driven out of the club in such an underhanded manner if she could avoid it; neither would she violate her conscience.

"I shall be obliged to maintain my position, nevertheless," she responded, after a moment of thought. Then she resumed, in a tone of regret: "And since the league does not see fit to release me because of my conscientious scruples, which, it seems to me, should be an unquestionable motive, I will state that Prof. Seabrook, who also does not favor my views, has enjoined me to silence upon the subject while I am a student at Hilton."

"Comrades, that settles the matter without further action or discussion," said the president, bringing her gavel down with an imperative stroke; for this last announcement had created a breezy flutter among the mischief-brewers, who had planned to have "great sport" a fortnight hence.

"And now," observed Katherine, again rising and addressing the chair with charming frankness, "I stand ready to prepare an article upon any other subject which the committee may assign me."

"Is the committee ready with another topic?" the president inquired.

That body conferred together for several minutes, after which the chairman stated with ill-concealed mirth, which appeared to be contagious, that a paper on "Transcendentalism" would be expected from Miss Minturn a fortnight from that night.

As she sat down titters and giggles were audible in various parts of the room, and Miss Walton's mallet again fell heavily upon the table, while she looked both distressed and indignant.

Before she could speak, however, a tall, handsome girl sprang to her feet and turned to her with blazing eyes.

"Lady President," she began, in a clear, ringing tone, "I rise to express my disapproval of the proceedings of this business meeting. While I am not at all in sympathy with the subject that has been broached here this evening, I believe in fair play, and that an insult offered to anyone because of her religious belief should not for a moment be tolerated. I shall feel justified in withdrawing from the league if such discourteous treatment is continued. And"—glancing at Katherine—"I also wish to express my admiration for Miss Minturn for so bravely standing by her colors. She might have shielded herself behind Prof. Seabrook's injunction in the first place and so settled the matter at once; but she made it a question of conscience for a cause that she loves, and was not afraid to say so. And now, I move that, if the last-named topic is distasteful to her, she be allowed to choose one for herself."

A profound hush had fallen upon the room during this spirited speech, and at its close there was a vigorous applause from a few of her listeners, showing something of a reaction of feeling in favor of Katherine, who observed, however, with a pang at her heart, that her roommate, Sadie, was not among the number.

"Is Miss Felton's motion seconded?" queried the president, with a smile and nod of approval at that young lady.

Katherine, who had been doing some rapid thinking during the last few minutes, was on her feet again before anyone could speak.

"Lady President, pray allow me to thank Miss Felton most heartily for her kind espousal of my cause," she said, bestowing a luminous smile upon her new friend, "but I would be very sorry to have any unpleasantness arise in the league, and may I ask that no further action be taken in the matter? I know that many people have a mistaken idea of what Christian Science is, and regard it and its adherents with feelings that are regretted when they become more enlightened on the subject. And now"—a mirthful gleam in her brown eyes—"let me add that I cheerfully accept the last-named subject assigned me, and will do my best to elucidate it for the benefit of the club at our next meeting."

As she concluded and sat down there was another round of applause, more pronounced this time; while some of the ringleaders in the mischief looked as if they felt that the tables were being turned against themselves.

The president appeared immensely relieved to have what had threatened to be a stormy scene so tactfully smoothed over, and, as there was no further business to be transacted, she gave the signal for formalities to cease and sociability to begin.

Katherine at once became the center of an admiring and condoling group, whose attitude towards her had undergone a radical change since the brave championship of Miss Felton, who was a power not only in her own class but in the whole school.

Katherine greeted everyone graciously, but met all expressions of sympathy and indignation with laughing protests, and as soon as she could do so without appearing unappreciative, excused herself, upon the plea that she must look over a lesson before the retiring bell rang, and slipped away to her room.

It is not to be wondered at that a few bitter tears forced themselves over her hot cheeks when she found herself alone, for she had been sorely tried. The struggle with her momentary feeling of indignation and a sense of personal injury had been severe, while she had also been deeply hurt by Sadie's evident sympathy with those who were in the plot against her.

But she resolutely set herself at work to conquer these emotions and then vigorously attacked the unlearned lesson, after which she retired, but not to sleep, for thought was busy with what had occurred and with plans for the next league meeting.

Sadie did not put in an appearance until some time after the gas had been turned off, when she silently undressed and crept into bed, and, shortly after, Katherine fell asleep.

Some hours later she was suddenly awakened by what sounded like a moan of pain.

She sat up in bed and listened; but, hearing nothing more, thought she must have been mistaken, and was about to lie down again, when, from beneath the covers of the bed, in the opposite corner of the room, she was sure she heard her roommate groan.

"Sadie! what is the matter?" she inquired.

There was no verbal answer, but another moan smote upon her ears.

Katherine sprang out of bed and went to her.

"Sadie, tell me, what is the trouble?" she said, laying a gentle hand upon her shoulder.

"Oh, I have a horrible toothache," she girl replied, adding: "I did not mean to wake you, but the pain is simply unbearable," and, throwing back the covers, she sat up and rocked to and fro in agony.

"What can I do for you?" Katherine kindly inquired, while she mentally declared that "God never made pain, nor man to suffer pain."

"Oh, I don't know," was the helpless rejoinder. "I think there is a bottle of oil of cloves somewhere in my upper drawer, if you will find it for me."

Katherine lighted the candle, kept for emergencies, and searched for the desired remedy amid the heterogeneous collection in the drawer, but failed to find it. Then she looked in various other places suggested by Sadie, with the same result, greatly to the girl's disappointment.

"Oh, I remember—I lent it to Carrie Hill last week! What shall I do?" wailed the sufferer in a voice of despair; for Miss Hill roomed at the top of the opposite wing, and just at that moment the clock in the tower of the building struck the hour of three.

She was now wrought up to a state of excessive nervous excitement, and it looked as if there would be no more sleep for either of them that night.

"Haven't you something—some camphor or salts, Katherine? I can't stand this any longer," and Sadie was now sobbing from mingled nervousness and suffering.

"No, dear. I never use anything of the kind," Katherine replied.

"Do you never put anything in a tooth when it aches?"

"No."

"Do you ever have the toothache?"

"I used to when I was a child; very seldom now."

"What do you do to stop it?" was the impatient query, accompanied by a prolonged groan.

"Treat it mentally."

"Shucks!" and Miss Minot threw herself violently back upon her pillows with an air of personal injury mingled with supreme contempt, while Katherine kept on working for harmony in her own thought.

"Katherine, I simply cannot stand this until morning," the girl cried again, after a minute or two of forced endurance, as a fresh paroxysm seized her.

"Shall I go to the matron and ask her for something for you?"
Katherine inquired.

"Oh, I don't know; it seems a shame to send you way down to her at this unearthly hour. It is bad enough to keep you awake," said Sadie, remorsefully.

"Never mind me, dear. I am willing to do anything you wish, and I'm not afraid to go anywhere in the building," was the kind response.

"Perhaps if I had some water to hold in my mouth it might relieve me," Sadie suggested.

Katherine brought her a glass and she filled her mouth, but expelled the water almost instantly, as the bare and sensitive nerve rebelled against such radical treatment.

"Can't you do something?" she gasped, clutching her companion's arm with a spasmodic grip.

"I'll go to Miss Williams, or some of the girls for—" Katherine began.

"No, I can't bear to make a stir—oh, heavens! oh! treat me—your way—anything—anything to stop this unbearable torture!" and Sadie buried her face in her pillow to smother the moans she could not repress.

"Indeed I will," said Katherine, with a heart-throb of thankfulness for the appeal; and, dropping her face upon her hands, she went to work with all her understanding for the sufferer.

Ten minutes passed; then it seemed as if the intervals between the moans grew longer. Another five minutes and she was sure that the hand upon her arm was relaxing its convulsive grasp. Not long after the restless form grew still, the hot hand on her arm slipped down upon the bed, and when the clock in the tower struck the half hour after three, the regular breathing of the girl told of quiet and restful sleep.

But Katherine continued to work for several minutes longer, then stole softly to her own couch, where she also was soon locked in slumber, and neither awoke again until the rising bell rang its imperative summons to the duties of a new day.

Katherine was nearly dressed before her roommate manifested any inclination to rise. She looked bright and serene, however, and there was no swelling or other evidence of the previous night's broken rest and suffering.

"I believe I'm all right, honey," she thoughtfully observed, after watching Katherine's operations in silence for a while.

"Of course you are," was the cheery response, with a happy heart- throb at the old familiar form of address.

"That was a right smart rumpus, though," Sadie added, in her
Southern phraseology.

"The less said about it the better," was the brief reply.

"Why?"

"Because it is nothing now, and you neither need nor wish to live it over."

"I reckon I don't. But, do you believe you cured me?"

"I know that I did not; but I also know that God healed you."

"But you did something."

"Yes—what I did was—well, you may call it prayer, if you like. But I think we must not talk about it because of Prof. Seabrook's command, which I am inclined to think I may have already broken in the letter if not in the spirit," said Katherine, gravely.

"Well—I don't—know. It all seems very queer to me!" Sadie observed, reflectively, as she slipped out of bed and began to dress. "I wouldn't have believed I could feel so well this morning though. I'm as fresh as a daisy, and my face isn't at all swollen. I can't understand it. I'm inclined to think that—after all, the ache just ached itself out and left of its own accord."

Katherine smiled faintly but did not pursue the subject.

"I'm downright obliged to you, Katherine, for being so kind and patient with me in the night," the girl resumed, after a few moments of silence; "and—honey," suddenly facing her and looking her straight in the eyes, though her cheeks were crimson, "I feel mighty mean over our tiff the other day, and—and about what happened last night in the league."

"Never mind, Sadie—it is all past now—" Katherine began.

"But I shall mind; I'm going to eat the whole of my humble pie," interposed Sadie, between a laugh and a sob, "for I—I was in the plot with the others. You see, I hadn't quite gotten over the other affair, and—"

"But you have now, Sadie?" Katherine interrupted, "wistfully.

"How could I help it when you've been so perfectly sweet? Only I want—"

"Well, then I'm happy!" cried Katherine, with a joyous laugh, "and I'm not going to let you eat any more 'humble pie,' for—the North and the South are reunited, and that cancels everything."

"Katherine, you are the dearest—" But Sadie's voice broke suddenly, and to cover her emotion she bounded into the closet and began a vigorous search for some needed article.

There were fair winds and cloudless skies after that, and nothing more was heard from the defective tooth, which, later, was filled and preserved for future usefulness.