Dolly said, as the train came to a standstill in the great station.

"Let us walk up, we can get there in ten minutes and we can talk so much better that way. Tell me about your friends, Fred."

"There's not time to tell you very much, but I'll give you the main points. Steele is working his way through college. He is one of the most popular men there. He hasn't a near relation in the world. He was born somewhere out West. His father took a claim; dry seasons, big mortgage and prairie fires killed the mother and the father, too. There wasn't a cent left for Bob. He has done about everything that a boy could do, I guess, and he has lived in every large city between here and Kansas. He was three years in Chicago, and managed to graduate from the High School there. Did jobs for some millionaire night and morning for his board and a dollar a week. Wherever he lived he went to school. That's how he managed to prepare for college."

"But how does he do now?"

"He won a scholarship, and then he is steward of our club. He does private tutoring and half a dozen other things. He'll get along. He had more invitations for Thanksgiving, I'll wager, than any other fellow in college."

"And Mr. Martin? Talk fast. We are almost home. You know all about the girls, for I told you all that I could think of in my letters."

"There isn't so much to tell about Martin, Dolly. He comes from one of the oldest families in Boston, has lots of money, and plenty of brains, but he is fearfully lazy. What he needs--"

But Fred's sentence was destined to remain unfinished, for just then the s.e.xtette came in sight of Dolly's home, and Dolly spied in the doorway the person whom she most loved on earth. With one spring she vanished up the walk and darted into her mother's arms.

It was all a merry hubbub for a time. Dolly's mother seemed to Beth just an older and more mature type of Dolly herself. Dolly's father was there, too, and the greeting given the two strange girls was cordial enough to make them feel at home and to dispel all restraint.

"You boys must try to amuse yourselves without us for a little while,"

said Mrs. Alden, her arm still around Dolly. "I am going to take the girls upstairs now, and by the time we come down, dinner will be served."

"Your old room is ready for you, Dolly, just as you left it; I have put your friends in the two little rooms across the hall. I supposed that you would want to be near each other."

"You are correct, as usual, Motherdie. Come in and help me dress now.

You always used to put the finishing touches on for me, you know. Leave your doors open, girls, so that we can talk to one another."

"I like your friends," Dolly's mother said quietly, when the two found themselves alone later. "Miss Newby doesn't look very happy, and there is an expression on her face that I do not like to see on so young a girl. I think that Miss Sutherland has latent possibilities about her."

"Yes, and they are almost all latent as yet, but you can help to bring them out, I know. By the way, Mother, I want to brighten her up a bit.

She must make a good impression on the boys this first night. Have you any rose-colored ribbons? Just put them on her, won't you? There's a dear. She cannot tie a bow any more than a sparrow can."

"You do not need me any more?"

"No, thanks. Oh, it is so blessed to be home, Mother. I'm going to your room at bedtime for a long talk. Will I do?"

"Very well," and Mrs. Alden looked with pardonable pride on the tall, graceful figure of her daughter, straight as an arrow; the fair, happy face, sunny and sweet, the light curling hair, the dainty white dress and the knots of blue ribbon scattered over it, made a picture of which any mother might well feel proud.

When Dolly went into Mary's room, she stopped in genuine surprise.

"How pretty you do look, Mary. I am proud of you." And yet "pretty"

was hardly the correct adjective to apply to her room-mate. Mary's face was fine, and now that she was dressed with some taste, the possibilities of future beauty became apparent. But it was by no means a handsome face, though it might become so in later years.

Beth came in trailing a white cashmere behind her. Dolly laughed mischievously. "Beth thinks that she can add several inches to her height by wearing long dresses. She does it on every possible occasion."

Beth retorted merrily, and the four went downstairs, where they found the three boys as well as Dolly's father awaiting them rather impatiently.

There was plenty of lively conversation, in which everyone took part. It was easy to see that Dolly was the light of the house, and that she was woefully missed by her home people.

Rob Steele proved to be a good talker. He had been through so much in the course of his short life, that he had an endless fund of stories on hand for almost any occasion. He was not at all conceited, but he talked well and easily.

"You must have acquaintances all over the United States," Beth exclaimed at last. "Aren't you always seeing people that you know?"

"Not often; you see, I was hardly in a position to make acquaintances, Miss Newby. I was doing all sorts of odd jobs, and while I will doubtless remember the faces of the persons for whom I worked, they will not recall me, and would certainly not claim acquaintanceship. However, I did see a young lady on your train whose face was so familiar to me that I bowed involuntarily."

"I noticed you speaking to that stunning girl all dressed in brown. Who is she, Bob?"

"Her name is Hamilton--Miss Margaret Hamilton. I knew her just casually in Chicago, where I stayed longer than I ever did in any other place after Father died. We were in the same cla.s.s, that is, we graduated the same year. I saw nothing much of her at school, but I frequently caught glimpses of her when I was sent to old Worthington's on some errand."

"Was she a relation of that rich old Worthington who died two years ago?"

"No relation, she was the daughter of his housekeeper, a very nice girl, too. Rather proud, I fancied, but thoroughly free from nonsense and silly sentimentalism."

It was some moments before Dolly dared to glance at her friends.

There were significant glances interchanged, but no comments were made, and Dolly's people did not surmise then, that the young woman under discussion had been Dolly's successful rival for the cla.s.s presidency.

There were music and singing later in the evening, and Beth felt that she knew for the first time, perhaps, what home-life might really mean.

After the girls had slipped into their dressing-gowns that night, they ran over to Dolly's room to discuss the subject that was just then uppermost in the minds of them all--Margaret Hamilton. They halted at the door, however, for there was Dolly enjoying a comfortable chat with her mother.

[Ill.u.s.tration: There were music and singing later in the evening.]

"Come in, girls, I've just been telling Mother all about Margaret. I always tell her everything, you know, and she has just asked if Margaret ever made any statements at variance with the real truth about herself.

It is no disgrace to be poor, and I hope that we are not sn.o.bs enough to care for that part of it; but has she been trying to pa.s.s herself off for something that she is not?"

There was a little silence. Mary Sutherland was the first to speak. "I never saw much of Miss Hamilton, and so I do not know what she is in the habit of saying about herself. The only time that I ever heard her mention the past, was when Miss Raymond asked her where she lived. She replied that her home had been in Chicago, but that death had broken it up. There was nothing more said."

"Very possibly all of that was strictly true," Mrs. Alden said thoughtfully, "and she certainly was under no special obligation to tell every student at Westover her private affairs. But how does she have the means to go through college? Dolly tells me that she dresses very nicely, although not extravagantly. I can see how she would prefer to keep some facts to herself. Girls are not as tolerant as boys in some particulars. Mr. Steele is popular at Harvard, despite his poverty and struggles; but you know very well that a girl, with similar experiences, would be unmercifully snubbed at Westover."

"And you think--"

"I do not know your friend, or perhaps I should say your cla.s.smate, as I see Miss Newby frowning over the word 'friend' so it is not easy for me to draw conclusions, but if she has merely kept still, and been reticent on her past life, I do not see that she is open to censure.

Of course, if she has been pretending to be what she is not, that is a totally different affair."

"She has always been very careful, Mrs. Alden, to say as little as possible about herself. I noticed it, and commented on the fact to Dolly, but I do not imagine that anyone else noticed it. As far as my observation has gone, she has told no untruths. But she certainly did seem accustomed to all the little luxuries that rich people have. One could notice it at table and in a hundred little ways."

"Doubtless she was accustomed to many of those things, if her mother was housekeeper for Mr. Worthington. He was one of the richest men in the West, and Miss Hamilton would have had an opportunity in his house, if she were at all adaptable, of becoming thoroughly familiar with all such little niceties. Even at the housekeeper's table there was certainly plenty of opportunity for Miss Hamilton to grow perfectly familiar with the ways of the rich."

"But where is her mother, and where did her money come from?"

"Those are questions that we can't answer, so we might as well drop them. I wonder where she was going?"

"Oh, didn't you know? Helen Raymond asked her to spend the Thanksgiving vacation at her home."

Mrs. Alden leaned forward, a serious look on her face. "Girls, if I were you, I should not mention this subject at school. Miss Hamilton is your cla.s.s president, she will be your president for a year to come. You want everything smooth and harmonious, don't you?"

"Of course we do, Mrs. Alden, and we will keep perfectly mum, but if Dolly had only been sensible and voted for herself, there would not be any such situation as there is at present."

Dolly laughed. "Beth never will learn to recognize some facts; now, for instance, that subject was finally settled long, long ago."

"I don't see--" began Beth.