hum of strange voices.  It was all new to Beth; she had seen so little of the world.  There was the reception the Y.W.C.A. gave to the “freshettes”—­she enjoyed that, too.  What kind girls they were!  Beth was not slow to decide that the “’Varsity maid” would make a model wife, so gentle and kindly and with such a broad, progressive mind.  Still Beth made hardly any friendships worthy of the name that first year.  She was peculiar in this respect.  In a crowd of girls she was apt to like all, but to love none truly.  When she did make friends she came upon them suddenly, by a sort of instinct, as in the case of Marie, and became so absorbed in them she forgot everyone else.  This friendship with Marie was another feature of her present life that pleased her.  She had dropped out of Sunday-school work.  She thought city Sunday-schools chilly, and she spent many a Sunday afternoon in Marie’s room.  She liked to sit there in the rocker by the grate fire, and listen to Marie talk as she reclined in the cushions, with her dark, picturesque face.  They talked of love and life and books and music, and the world and its ways, for Marie was clever and thoughtful.  In after years Beth looked back on those Sunday afternoons with a shadow of regret, for her feet found a sweeter, holier path.  Marie prided herself on a little tinge of scepticism, but they rarely touched on that ground.  The twilight shadows gathered about the old piano in the corner, and the pictures grew dimmer on the wall, and Marie would play soft love-songs on her guitar, and sometime Beth would recite one of her poems.

“Have you finished the novel you were writing last summer, Beth?” asked Marie, one day.

“No, there are just three more chapters, and I am going to leave them till holidays, next summer, so I can give them my full time and attention.”

“Tell me the story.”

Then Beth sat by the fire with a dreamy look on her face and told the plot of her story.  Marie leaned forward, a bright, delighted sparkle in her dark eyes.  Beth had never interested her like that before.  She felt encouraged, and Marie was in raptures when she had finished.

“It’s just splendid!  Oh, Beth, how clever you are; you will be famous soon.  I shall be proud of your friendship.”

Beth did not enjoy as much of the company of Clarence as she had hoped during these days, though he always brought her home from church on Sunday evening.  Marie was always with them.  Beth never thought of leaving her, and Clarence, too, seemed to enjoy her company.  Beth was pleased at this; she liked to have Clarence appreciate her friends.  Then, they three often went to the musical concerts; Beth liked those concerts so much, and Marie’s face would fairly sparkle sometimes, and change with every wave of music.

“Just look!  Isn’t Marie’s face grand?” said Clarence one night in a concert.

Beth only smiled.  That night she sat in the rocker opposite her mirror and looked at her own reflection.