HALLIE was a lovable child with fair complexion and Titian hair. If she had an enemy, no one knew about it. Her smile would melt an iceberg and her confiding ways disarm a highwayman. She married a doctor and went to live in Texas.

BERTIE was a dear girl, but Nature never intended her for a student. Pretty and obedient and useful about the house, she was made to love and be loved rather than to dim her expressive eyes by poring over algebraic signs and German script.

MAY was a true daughter of her mother, straight and clear-eyed and dependable, with plenty of looks and brains and determination for a through ticket to everything worth while in life. She married a Bishop's son who had been in the Naturalist's Sunday School class at college.

Tall and stately and refined was MARGARET, with a touch of the languid air seen in states that border on the Gulf. Singing was her faith and hope, and even in her dreams she sang.

BLANCHE was loved like a man by some of the girls; but with all her manly ways she was really very feminine and thought the world of her Harry. She came from a happy and attractive home in the mountains, with devoted parents and sisters. Kindness was her watchword.

LOLLA was short and plump and haled from the South, where everything was just a little better than the best. She was a generous talker, and loved to talk most of the things she knew most about. Her room was tidy and full of pretty knick-knacks. She was good-hearted and a heavy worker. If there was a man in the parlor, she was sure to find him.

MARY was as pretty as a picture and so sweet that she was almost spoiled. Her tears came readily, tempting one to pet her. Dickens would have welcomed her among his characters.

At sixteen, a girl is apt to be a despotic little queen, and so was MARIAN. She inherited from her successful father some ideas and ways that Pansy did not possess. Most of the girls liked her and many bowed the knee at her court.

RENA was a thoroughly good, hard-working, serious, motherly sort of a girl, to whom others carried their sorrows. She was a true missionary, whether at school or in China.

FLORENCE was the girl who insisted on filling her coffee cup half full of sugar and not stirring it, simple because she had always done it that way at home. Some children never grow up.

"BILL" played the role of a tough to perfection and she was so little and so youthful that her as

sociates only laughed at her. But she was old in experience and her little sister Maggie knew it and scolded her continually. If some one had been needed to drop chewing-gum from the gallery into the open mouth of a deacon sleeping below, “Bill” would have been that one-and Maggie's little tender heart would have suffered for it.

CHAPTER X

CELEBRITIES

MR. FISHBURNE was a prominent banker and exhorter of Roanoke, as well as a much-loved member of the Board of Trustees of the school. Splendid in appearance and generous of heart, he made friends everywhere he went. He even planned to take the Naturalist on a trip to the Holy Land, but something occurred to prevent the consummation of this delightful plan.

LEO WHEAT

Leo Wheat, the clever but eccentric pianist, strolled in one day and gave the girls an exhibition of his skill in fingering, which was highly appreciated. The performance closed rather abruptly, however, because, like the moon, he shone the brightest when he was full.

MAYOR FULTZ

The Mayor was chiefly known through his son David, a famous baseball and football star of Brown University. He made one run of eighty yards to goal that would have furnished wreaths for the

brows of a dozen fathers. Later, he became a professional baseball player, then a lawyer, then an aviator, and finally President of the International Baseball League.

SAM JONES

Sam Jones was speaking one evening at a temperance rally in the grove on Sears Hill, and referred to the fact that Sam Small was having an argument on the same subject three miles away with a state official from Richmond, who happened to be bald.

"It reminds me," he said, "of an Irishman who had a bantam rooster, of which he was very proud. One day, when he was expatiating about what a great fighter his rooster was, a stranger standing near remarked, 'I've got a bird at home that'll eat your chicken up.' 'Bring him around', said the Irishman, and so he did.

"The bantam ruffled up and showed great fight, but the strange bird simply took hold of him with one claw and made a meal of him. 'Faith, and he did ate him up,' said Pat; 'but that was an imported chicken'-referring to the bald eagle. If Brother Small is downed in the argument tonight, we can claim, with Pat, that an imported chicken did it."