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farther end of the room would respond, a third would take it up; until every desk in the hall seemed in motion; while the poor Professor, turning his head spasmodically from side to side, his bewildered face a deep mahogany hue, tried in vain to fix upon the offenders. He was known to have even fled from the room. But did the President appear in the doorway, every sound ceased; every eye was fixed upon the page before it. These occurrences, however, were rare; perhaps because the occasions were rare indeed upon which he was called to preside. The first among the professors, in point of fact, was Professor Dyce, he who strove to inculcate the natural sciences and higher mathematics in the unwilling minds of the girls, and to whom all authority was intrusted in the absence of the President. Like him, he was born and had been reared in the North; but had spent some years of his life abroad, in the comfortable belief that he was to fall heir to a wealth which made any exertion for his own support unnecessary. Circumstances, however,-including a law-suit,-rendering this belief problematical, and, at the same time, calling him to La Fayette, instead of indulging vain hopes or useless fears, he sought and obtained a position in this school while awaiting the result; and, to prepare himself for a possible future, was pursuing medical studies in his moments of leisure.

Besides these two, there were connected with the institution Mr. Milde, the teacher of drawing and painting; Prof. Grôte, the music-master; and still another of unnecessary and unpronounceable name, who came upon certain days to instruct the young ladies in the modern languages. Mr. Milde was a bashful young man, with large brown eyes and a smooth, boyish face, chiefly remarkable for the adaman tine nature of his heart, since no amount of strength brought to bear upon his sensibilities, in the shape of coquettish airs and manners, or even sighs and half-concealed tears, were able to swerve him one hair's-breadth from the rigid performance of his duty, which was, as has been said, to teach the young ladies of the La Fayette Female College the principles of drawing and painting.

With Prof. Grôte, high-shouldered, square of face, auburn-haired, and with twinkling blue eyes behind his gold-rimmed spectacles, the young coquettes were more successful. At least numerous stories of

pretty compliments paid in the Professor's oddly-accented English, floated about the school; not well authenticated stories by any means, but sufficiently plausible to give a romantic interest to the great, bare music-room and dull little practicing-closets, and to flavor somewhat the rather tasteless school life. As to the female teachers, they shall be enumerated later, — when Katey has found a more comfortable resting-place, even for a summer night, than the crowded platform of a railway station.

Evidently no one had come to meet her. The carriages, drawn up in a dusky line, were beginning to drive rapidly away. She descended the steps, and entered the last and only remaining one, which had been disdained, perhaps, on account of its shabby appearance. In a moment it was climbing the narrow, steep street, rattling over the round paving stones of the town, turning corners and making abortive dives at houses dimly shadowed forth in the flickering gaslight, with a kind of jerk and shamble of motion, which brought her at last to her destination,—a brick house, tall and gloomy of appearance in the dim light, detached from the others upon the street, and with a double flight of high stone steps leading up to two doors placed side by side.

"Pull either bell," the cabman called, as she hesitated between the two, "it's all the same."

A servant opened the door. She stepped into a narrow hall, full of the sound of voices suddenly hushed, proceeding from an open doorway on the left, which was immediately filled by a giant form, while President Humphrey's dark face shone down upon her with a welcome in every line, when she had introduced herself. He was followed by his wife, a little woman of delicate appearance, who greeted Katey languidly, and drew her into the room from which the voices had come,—a pretty apartment with its bamboo furniture, and quaint foreign ornaments. It was brilliantly lighted now, and to Katey, dazzled after the dull glimmer of the street lamps, seemed to be filled with people. A little round man upon the sofa, whose cravat appeared to have inadvertently started his eyes from his head, rose with a kind of bounce at her entrance. This was one of the parents whom term-time had brought to Mrs. Humphrey's drawing-room-Mr. Solomon Luckiwinner, the owner of many shares in more than one Pennsylvania coal mine, and


the possessor also of a daughter, which accounted for his presence here. She was an exceedingly diminutive, prim young lady, of insignificant countenance, overloaded in dress and weighed down with jewelry, which seemed so out of place upon her as to give one the impression that she was only holding it a few moments for the accommodation of some one else. Just now her small features were swollen and disfigured by crying. The pangs of homesickness had seized upon her already. Katey, conscious of an unaccountable sinking of her own heart, felt an irresistible drawing towards the forlorn girl, who gave her a prim dutiful little bow, and then subsided, with a suppressed sob, into her corner again, as one or two of the lady teachers rose hastily and came forward to greet her Miss Severance,-tall, fair, brown-eyed, and sweet to look at, dressed in deepest black; Miss Wormley, of whom Katey marked only at the moment the blink of watery, red-rimmed eyes; and "Our Preceptress, Miss Hersey," - a plump, high-shouldered, fair-haired woman, of anxious countenance and timid, hesitating manner, whom nature had intended for a happier sphere, but fate and circumstances had made preceptress of the La Fayette Female College. These all resided in the two houses which made up the school buildings; for, in addition to the one containing Mrs. Humphrey's drawing-room, there was another at a short distance around the corner of the street, the two being connected in the rear by a wide veranda at the point where their angles met. In the corner itself was a smaller house, which Prof. Paine occupied with his family. The other gentlemen connected with the institution, with the exception of Prof. Dyce, came in at stated hours to their classes.

"You would be glad to go to your room, I am sure," said Miss Hersey, upon whom devolved the duty of entertaining these school guests; "but, as it is in the other house, perhaps you had better take your tea first. We did not know when to expect you after the accident yesterday. Prof. Dyce and our new housekeeper were delayed by it; but they came on this morning. We judged from your letter that you would come by that train; but Prof. Dyce could not recall any one whom he judged to be you."

Katey ran over in her mind the few faces among the passengers which she

could remember. "I was upon the train; but I think I did not see him," she said. "Very likely; you were not in the same car, I presume.'

"How did you pass the night? Of course, you were obliged to remain at the junction."

It was Mrs. Humphrey who roused herself to speak from the arm-chair in which. she was hidden. How timid and easily confused this rather stately young lady was after all, she thought, as Katey replied with evident embarrassment that she had found a very comfortable inn close by the station.

"Still, it must have been very awkward, to go to an inn alone," suggested Miss Wormley, craning her long neck and patting her faded, sandy hair.


"But I was not alone," Katey said quickThen she checked herself. "O, you were with friends?" Miss Wormley saw no reason why this girl should not speak up promptly and relate the circumstances exactly as they occurred. Fortunately at this moment Miss Hersey, after a little flurried start and glance round the room, proposed that Katey should go down to tea, and rose to lead the way. It was long after the usual tea hour, and she was to be served alone. When they returned the President and Miss Severance had left the room. Mrs. Humphrey was dozing in her chair, while Miss Wormley had drawn near Mr. Luckiwinner, to whose remarks she was listening with a simper of pleased attention upon her countenance.

"I aint much of a scholar, myself," he was saying, "but I reckon Clary, here, shall larn about all there is;" and he described a half circle with his hand upon which shone an enormous diamond ring, as though gathering within is limits all the wisdom of the earth which was to find a place in poor little Miss Luckiwinner's head. "There's money enough." He winked and chuckled and gurgled in an alarming way. "Don't leave nothing out. We'll have all them high-sounding things. The Lord knows the name of 'em, I don't. Won't we, Clary ?" appealing to the corner. But the only reply was a burst of sobs.

"There, there, don'tee now," he said soothingly, drawing the girl forward and seating her upon his knee. "You won't mind if I take her in my lap, ma'am?" to Mrs. Humphrey, as the girl buried her face

upon her father's shoulder with a wail fast asleep, wrapped in a soft white shawl, which could not be repressed. "You see summer night though it was, roused herself she aint had no mother these good many with a little yawn, to ask, "Where is Proyears." Perhaps it was the tight neck- fessor Dyce? Has any one seen him since handkerchief which squeezed the tears at tea?" The question was answered unexthis moment into his own eyes. He pectedly. A quick, firm step sounded in brushed them away with the coarse hand the hall, followed by a deep voice in moupon which gleamed the showy ring. "I've mentary colloquy with some one there, had to be dad and marm, too. Aint I, Clary? and the professor himself, entered the room. There, there, it won't be no time at all be- "Here he is now," said Miss Hersey, before you'll be comin' home on your vaca- fore he appeared, hearing his step, which tion, with so much larnin' in your head could never be mistaken for the President's that you can't talk to your poor dad." | heavy roll, or Professor Paine's timid creep. This he said with a comprehensive wink Katey turned with listless curiosity. She around the room; but the only reply was had half risen to ask to be shown to her a tighter clasp of the arms about his neck, room. She dropped upon her seat again, and a new burst of sobs into his bosom. her heart for the moment ceasing to beat. "And then, there's Rol coming to see you It was the gentleman who had recognized. next week. That's her brother," he ex- Dacre Home upon the street, and who plained; "and may be I shall look in on had confronted her so unexpectedly the you by the week after. Perhaps, I'll come night before. Why had she never imagined to school myself!" he added as a triumph the possibility of this? of wit. "You don't think your dad's too old to larn them high-soundin' things, do ye, little gal?"

There was a burst of laughter from the hidden head at this, and Mr. Luckiwinner choked, and gurgled, and reddened, and gasped as though he were in danger of going out like a sputtering candle. When he had so far recovered himself as to be able to blow his nose upon a handkerchief with a flaming border, he addressed himself to Katey.

"They tell me you're agoin' to be a teacher here; well if you would have an eye on my little gal-bein' young yourself," he went on without noticing the change in Miss Wormley's countenancefrom the most tender pity and sympathy to astonishment and gathering indignation. "If you'd let her room with you, say, I'd fit up that room without sparin' no expense; velvet carpet, three-story black walnut bedstead, you know, with filigree. work over the top, carved sideboard to put your clothes in, and all them little silver gimcracks that women like to have round on the bureau, handsomer 'n any communion service you ever see." He spoke eagerly and hurriedly; but Miss Hersey ventured to interfere, and explain that it was against the rules of the school for the teachers to share their rooms with the pupils. But as each one had charge of a dormitory hall the young lady could room upon Miss Earle's hall if she chose; and so the matter was arranged.

Suddenly Mrs. Humphrey, who had been

"Ah," said Mrs. Humphrey, "we were just speaking of you; Miss Hersey will you

she sank back into her chair with a little wave of her hand towards Miss Earle, whom Miss Hersey hastened to present.

The professor had marked the shrinking figure as he entered-some frightened school-girl, he had said to himself; but at the sound of her name he came forward with outstretched hand, and a pleasant, reassuring word upon his lips, remembering the timid start of the slight figure whose face he was curious to see.

He recalled the image of an odd little girl, bearing this same name, whom he had befriended years before at a children's party in Boston. She had forgotten the occasion and time, of course, and he had no thought of making himself known to her, but still the recollection did quicken his curiosity, and warm his usual cool, grave manner into unwonted cordiality.

Katey rose, but she did not lift her eyes. Had she not felt before the sudden, freezing stare which she had not the courage to meet again? As for the professor his hand fell to his side, the halfuttered words of welcome came to an untimely end, he bowed low, and, turning away, abruptly seated himself by Mrs. Humphrey's chair.

Poor Katey, left standing in the middle of the floor, her bonnet pushed back from the face from which the color had fled, her slender fingers tightly clasping each other as she tried to repress the tears which sprang to her eyes, remembered Jack-re

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The buzz of conversation sounded again in her ears. Would he tell here and now where he had last seen her? The part she had played so thoughtlessly and as it seemed to her at the time so innocently, appeared now almost like a crime. Could she confess it if called upon? For a moment she almost thought she might. Then she remembered the skirts, of modest length to be sure, but much shorter than fashion or custom dictated. Strange that a few inches should condemn her; and yet she knew they would. She might tell the story; but she could never own to the little red petticoat!

"Have you come far to-day?" There was a sudden silence as Prof. Dyce's voice, with its slightly sarcastic tone, crossed the room. The question was for her, then, when he knew. Did he think to expose and confound her before them all? Pride and something almost like anger came to her rescue. She would tell the story if he forced her to it; but he should not triumph in her shame. She would feel none.

"I have come from the junction," she answered, with that forced, outward composure which answers so often and well for inward quiet. She did not shrink from meeting his eyes now. She had been foolish perhaps; but she had done no wrong.

"The accident detained you there, I presume; you must have found the time of waiting rather dull." She thought of the little company of which she had made one, and which he had seen trooping down through the hall in their fantastic garb. Dull! It was dreadful to remember; but it certainly was not dull. The flame in her face rose to her hair.

"Yes," ventured Miss Wormley, who had watched Miss Earle from the moment of the professor's entrance, and was confident not only that they had met before, but that there was some secret cause of embarrassment on Katey's side, "it must have been very tiresome; but she was with friends, I believe. Did you not say that you met friends upon the train?"

Katey had risen from her seat and crossed the room, trailing the little bright shawl after her. She did not appear to

have heard the question. "I am very tired," she said, addressing Miss Hersey; "could I be shown to my room?"

"O certainly," Miss Hersey responded quickly, rising and leading the way, when Katey had made a dignified adieu which included the whole room. "I beg your pardon; I forgot that you were still in your bonnet."

They crossed the great music-room and descended a few steps to the wide veranda, enclosed on three sides by the buildings and open to the garden upon the fourth, at the further end of which was a door which Miss Hersey unlocked; here they found themselves in a narrow entry, with the school-room upon the right, shrouded in darkness now, and a flight of stairs just before them. "We might have come through the school-room," said Miss Hersey; but it is so much more direct that we usually cross the veranda, as you will find. This is my hall," she added, as they reached the top of the first flight of stairs. "Yours is above it: I will show you;" and she led the way. A long wide passage extended the length of the building; upon either side were ranged doors in a long line, broken upon one side by a descending stairway, which turned and was lost to sight in the darkness.

The last of this line of doors proved to give entrance to Katey's apartment-a cozy little corner room, lighted by windows upon either side, and neatly furnished. She had no regrets for the pretty, luxurious chamber which had been her own in Delphine's home. If her mind had been at ease she would have been quite content with her surroundings.

"There are no girls yet upon this hall, I think; but they will come to-morrow. My room, however, is directly under yours, and if you are timid—”

"O, I am not at all afraid," Katey said quickly, longing to be alone. "But Miss Luckiwinner?" she asked suddenly.

"Yes; I had forgotten. I will see that she has the next room; it is not engaged, and she will probably prefer to occupy it to-night rather than stay in the other house. I will attend to it." Then with a pleasant good night Miss Hersey left her.

She had lighted the gas and closed the shutters. Katey's trunk had been brought up and placed behind the door. She sat down beside it. It was familiar to her eyes, like the face of a friend, and she had not realized until this moment how heavy

hearted she was. Could Prof. Dyce send her away in disgrace? No; he would hardly do that without giving her an opportunity to explain. But did she wish to explain? She was not at all sure that she did. Even now she resented the tone in which he had addressed her. She felt that he had mocked her. If he demanded an explanation she would give it to him, she could not do less; otherwise she would say nothing at all. He had looked at her with surprise and suspicion the first time they met; but he had no right to judge her. And that brought her mind again to Dacre-poor Dacre, of whom every one-unless it were Delphine-disapproved. The air of the room was close and stifling; she turned down the gas and threw open the shutters. There was something in the stillness of the hot, starless night which brought back almost painfully the last time she had seen him, when her cry had called him back to her. But for that, she knew, he would have gone away

forever. Was it regret that weighed her spirit down with the thought? Poor Dacre! his handsome, dissatisfied face rose before her, as though she had evoked it from the shadows. He loved her. He would come to her. But when and where? Everything in the future was dark and uncertain at this moment as she closed the shutters and turned away from the window. She was falling into a troubled sleep when there came a feeble rap upon the door: "It is I," said a timid voice. "It is Miss Luckiwinner. O, please open the door." Katey unlocked it quickly, to be met by little Miss Luckiwinner's tearstained face and. slender white-robed figure. "Do let me come in," she said. "I can't sleep, I am so frightened to be alone." "Stay with me, then," said Katey, stricken with compunction at having quite forgotten her. So the trembling little figure crept into Katey's bed, where she soon forgot her fears, as did Katey her anxieties, in the blessed sleep of youth, which for the time at least wipes out all cares.

(To be continued.)


A LILY in my garden grew,
Amid the thyme and clover,
No fairer lily ever blew,

Search all the wide world over.
Its beauty passed into my heart-
I know 'twas very silly-
But I was then a foolish maid,
And it a perfect lily.

One day a learned man came by,
With years of knowledge laden,
And him I questioned, with a sigh,
Like any foolish maiden:

"Wise sir, please tell me wherein lies--
I know the question's silly-
The something that my art defies,
And makes a perfect lily."

He smiled, and, stooping, plucked the flower,
Then tore it, leaf and petal,

And talked to me for full an hour,
And thought the point to settle:
"Herein, it lies," at length he cries;
But I-I know 'twas silly-
Could only weep and say, "But where-
O, doctor, where's my lily?"

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