veritable horn of plenty.

Yet a bit farther up the aisle was a small boy with a large cage that he
watched closely.

A thick cloth covered it, but once, when the boy was not looking, a long
brown furry arm reached out, and snatched mischievously at his sleeve.

"It's a monkey," whispered Nancy, and the boy turned and grinned.

"'F _he_ knew there was a monkey in that cage he'd make me put it in the
baggage car," he said.

Dorothy was tired with the long ride, and just as she was thinking that
she could not bear much more of it, the brakeman shouted, "Glenmore!
Glenmore!" and the two girls were glad enough to get out upon the
platform.

Glenmore, the village, was a lovely little country place, quiet, and
evidently content with itself.

Glenmore, the school, was a rambling, picturesque home for the pupils
who came there.

Once it had been a private mansion, but its interior had been remodeled
to meet the requirements of a small, and select school for girls.

A bit old-fashioned in that it was more genuinely homelike than other
private schools, it held itself proudly aloof from neighboring
buildings.