way to number fifteen, west wing, Katherine turned to her
companion and observed, in a friendly tone:

"So this is your first year in Hilton Seminary, Miss Wild?"

Jennie, who had been "just boiling"--as she told her later--over
the professor's recent crankiness and severity, turned to
Katherine in unfeigned surprise, for there was not the slightest
trace of resentment or personal affront in either her voice or
manner.

Her brown eyes were as serene as a May morning; her scarlet lips
were parted in a sunny smile that just disclosed her white, even
teeth, and her voice was clear and sweet, without even a quiver to
betray emotion of any kind.

Jennie Wild was a girl of many moods. Possessing the kindest heart
in the world, and ever ready to run her nimble feet off to do any
one a good turn, she was at the same time a veritable little
"snapdragon." Touch her ever so lightly, and off she would go into
paroxysms of mirth or rage, sympathy or scorn, as the case might
be. Consequently she had looked for an outburst, or at least some
manifestation, of indignation on Katherine's part, over the
principal's recent sharpness and ungracious treatment.

"Yes, I'm a freshie," the girl replied, with a nod and one of her
comical grimaces, but still curiously studying the placid face
beside her, "but I'm not here as you are. I'm a working student"--
this with a rising flush and defiant toss of her pert little head.