Round, rosy-faced, blue-eyed Katherine, with her brown hair in two tight plaits turned under and tied with a ribbon behind her ears, was a little abashed at the attention she excited.

“What is she like, Katherine? tell us—­the new girl at the Whittredges’.”

“She is standing at the gate now,” answered Katherine, looking over her shoulder.

“Is she?  Oh, where?”

“Let’s walk by and see her.”

“We’ll be tardy if we do, and at any rate there is the carriage; perhaps they will drive past.”

“Look! there’s Miss Genevieve.  No, they are going the other way.”

“What are you staring at?” demanded Belle Parton, joining the group.  Belle was a gypsy-looking girl with merry black eyes, and hair that refused to be smooth like Katherine’s, but continually fell in her eyes.  As she spoke she put her hat on the step and proceeded to adjust the round comb she wore.

“The Whittredge girl.  Have you seen her, Belle?” asked Charlotte Ellis.

“No; what is she like?”

“Katherine is the only one who has seen her; she says she is lovely.”

“Oh, she is!  You ought to see her, Belle.  Maurice and I peeped through the hedge and saw her walking to and fro studying something.  And her name is Rosalind.  Isn’t that a beautiful name?”

“I don’t believe she is much,” Belle announced, with a turn of her head.  The only reason she had for saying this was the naughty one of wishing to snub Katherine, who took everything in earnest and now looked crestfallen.

“Never mind, Kit; tell us some more about her,” urged one of the others.

“Grandmamma says she is surprised at Mrs. Whittredge’s having her here.  You know she would have nothing to do with her son after he married, until lately, and she never saw her granddaughter before, I think family quarrels are awfully interesting; don’t you?” As Charlotte spoke, the bell rang, and the girls turned toward the house.

“Do you, Charlotte?” exclaimed Katherine, who was accustomed to pin her faith to her friend’s opinions, but thought that quarrels being wrong could not be interesting.

“I think so, too.  They are so delightfully mysterious,” echoed another of the girls.

“Nonsense!  What is there that is mysterious?” put in pugnacious Belle.

It may have been the alluring summer day, or the fact that it was near the end of the term, and discipline had relaxed, but certain it was that a general restlessness and inclination to whisper pervaded the study hour.  It was the fashion among the girls to adore Celia.  Fair, and usually she had no difficulty in keeping order, but this morning even her presence was without effect.

Belle Parton had her history propped up before her in a way that suggested some mischief going on behind its shelter, rather than any serious study.  Katherine, who was honestly trying to study, was distracted by the signals flying around her.  Charlotte Ellis, whose seat was near the window, seemed principally occupied in peeping between the sash curtains.