“How did you do it?” asked Dick.

“Why,” answered Sahwah, “when it came to the test and we were asked to tell the story of the book I simply wrote down, ’I can’t tell you that one, but I can tell another just as good,’ and I did.  Old Prof.  Fruehlingslied was so floored by my ‘blooming cheek’ that he passed me, but he has had a watchful eye on me ever since.”  Dick laughed outright.

“I never saw anything like you,” he said, swinging her books around in his hand.  The red heart fell out into the snow.  Dick picked it up.  “Who’s your friend?” he said, deliberately reading the name, and immediately filled with jealous pangs.  Dick liked Sahwah better than any girl in school.  Her irrepressible, fun—­loving nature held him fascinated.  Sahwah liked Dick, too, but no better than she liked most of the boys in the class.  Sahwah was a poor hand to regard a boy as a “beau.”  Boys were good things to skate with, or play ball or go rowing with; they came in handy when there were heavy things to lift, and all that; but in none of these things did one seem to have any advantage over the others, so it was immaterial to her which one she had a good time with.  The good time was the main thing to her.  Sahwah had a fifteen—­year—­old brother, and she knew what a boy was under his white collar and “boiled” shirt.  There was no silly sentimentality in her spicy make-up.  She was a royal good companion when there was any fun going on, but it was about as easy to “get soft” with her as with a stone fence post.  She was a master hand at ridicule and the boys knew this and respected her accordingly.  In spite of all this Dick’s admiration of her remained steadfast, and he would have attempted to jump over the moon if she had dared him to do it.  Hence the valentine signed “Ned Roberts” piqued him.  Sahwah had ordered him not to send her one and he had meekly obeyed.  It hurt him to think any one else had the right to do it.

“Who’s your friend?” he repeated as he handed her the heart.

“Oh, somebody,” said Sahwah, enjoying the opportunity of teasing him.  And that was all he could get out of her, in spite of numerous questions.

“You’ll surely go coasting to-morrow night?” he said as he left her in front of her house.

“I surely will,"’ said Sahwah, flashing him a brilliant smile, “I wouldn’t miss it for the world!” If ever a girl had the power to allure and torment a boy that girl was Sahwah.

* * * * *

The house belonging to the Gardiners was now rented, together with the furnished room, and brought in thirty dollars a month, which made housekeeping much smoother sailing for Migwan, but the fact still remained that the money which was to have put her into college the next year was spent, and there was no present prospect of replacing it.  Her mother was now home from the hospital and fully on the road to recovery, and Migwan tried to make her happiness over this fact overbalance her disappointment at her own loss.  None of her stories or picture plays had been accepted, and of late she had had to give up writing, for with her mother sick most of the housework fell on her shoulders.  Although she maintained a bright and cheery exterior, she went about mourning in secret for her lost career, as she called it, and the heart went out of her studying.