him, and observed:

"I find, Miss Minturn, that you are to room with Miss Sadie Minot, a young lady from Atlanta, Georgia, and I think you will find her an agreeable companion. However"—with a humorous twinkle in his eyes—"to use a homely proverb, 'it is Hobson's choice,' for it happens to be the only vacancy in the building; we have a very full school this year. I will call some one to show you how to find it, and have your trunk sent up later."

He touched a bell and presently a young girl about sixteen entered the room, with a brisk step and an alert air, suggestive of a repressed cyclone only awaiting an opportunity for mischief brewing; while, as she approached the occupants, a strong odor of peppermint made itself apparent in the atmosphere.

"Miss Minturn, this is Miss Wild, one of our breezy freshmen—eh, Jennie?" and the quizzical look again leaped into the blue-gray eyes.

Katherine smilingly acknowledged the introduction, while Miss Wild blushed and nodded an embarrassed greeting, then immediately turned her face away from the focus of the professor's observation and made a comical grimace which came very near proving too much for Katherine's dignity.

"Jennie," the gentleman continued, "Miss Minturn is to share Miss Minot's room—number fifteen, west wing—and I have called you to show her the way, if you please."

"Yes, sir, I will," said the girl, with ready compliance, which culminated in a vigorous sneeze, whereupon, with the restless energy which pervaded her every movement, she whisked her handkerchief from her pocket, and, with it, there shot out a promiscuous assortment of chocolates and cream peppermints, which went bounding and rolling about the room in every direction.

Prof. Seabrook gave vent to a hearty laugh of amusement at the awkward contretemps.

"I thought I detected a familiar odor, Jennie," he observed; then added, good-naturedly, "You may pick them up, if you please."

"Guess I will," she returned, eagerly, and nimbly suiting the action to her words. "I really can't afford to lose all that precious sweetness. Josie Craig gave them to me just as you rang."

Katherine had risen and was moving towards the door, to cover her own inclination to explode, and thus make the situation more awkward for the girl, when the principal checked her by remarking:

"By the way, Miss Minturn, the juniors and seniors attend the Bible class, which it is my province to conduct. We meet at four on Sunday afternoons in the south recitation room; and the lesson for next Sabbath will be on the Creation, as given in the first chapter of Genesis. And this reminds me that I have neglected to inquire where you will attend church. As our catalogue states, each student is allowed to choose her own place of worship. Where do you propose to make your church home?"

Katherine had expected this question before; nevertheless, she flushed slightly as she turned back to face her interlocutor, and replied:

"I am a Christian Scientist, Prof. Seabrook, and I shall attend the church on Grove Street."

The pause which followed this announcement was painfully ominous, and Katherine was amazed at the frozen look which suddenly settled over the gentleman's face, together with the expression of stern disapprobation which instantly drove all the kindness out of his hitherto genial eyes. "A Christian Scientist!—indeed!" he said, in a tone as frigid as his look. "It is a matter of regret to me that you did not state that fact when you made application for admission to Hilton."

Katherine's lip quivered slightly at this caustic remark and the accompanying scorn on the high-bred face; and the flush which had risen to her cheek a moment before vanished, leaving her quite pale, although in no way disconcerted.

"But I believe the catalogue states that there is no sectarianism in Hilton Seminary, that the broadest possible religious tolerance prevails here," she remarked, with a sweet gentleness which, under any other circumstances, would have instantly disarmed her companion.

But, as it happened, he was a bitter opponent of the "false doctrine," and the term "Science" applied to Christianity was a rank offense to his rigid Presbyterian opinions, as was also the fact that a woman had dared to face the world with it!

"I do not recognize Christian Science, so-called, as a religion," he retorted, with a sharpness in marked contrast to Katherine's sweetness. "In my opinion, it is simply a device and snare of Satan himself to deceive the very elect; and Miss Minturn"—this with frowning emphasis—"I will not, for a moment, tolerate the promulgation of its fallacious teachings in this school. I trust I make myself understood."

Katherine had not once removed her clear, brown eyes from his countenance during this speech, but there was not the slightest manifestation of resentment on her own—only an expression of tender regret, as if she were sorry for him, because of the sense of discord that seemed to hold possession of him.

"You mean that I am not to talk it here?" she said.

"Exactly; nor flaunt it in any way."

"I will not, sir," with gentle gravity; then a little smile curving her red lips, she added: "Christian Science, Prof. Seabrook, is a religion of Love, and I will simply try to live it."

The principal of Hilton flushed to his brows before this unassuming girl, a circumstance unprecedented in the annals of the institution.

Her look, her tone, the softly spoken words—all radiated love, and his arrogant spirit felt the gentle rebuke.

"Have you that book, 'Science and Health,' with you?" he curtly demanded.

Katherine's heart leaped within her. Did he mean to deprive her of her daily bread?

"Yes, sir," with unfaltering glance and voice.

"Then keep it out of sight," he briefly commanded, adding, in a tone of dismissal, as he took up his pen: "That is all, Miss Minturn."

Katherine bowed respectfully, then quietly followed Jennie Wild from the room.

CHAPTER II.

KATHERINE AND HER ROOMMATE.

As the two girls were passing through the main building on their way to number fifteen, west wing, Katherine turned to her companion and observed, in a friendly tone:

"So this is your first year in Hilton Seminary, Miss Wild?"

Jennie, who had been "just boiling"—as she told her later—over the professor's recent crankiness and severity, turned to Katherine in unfeigned surprise, for there was not the slightest trace of resentment or personal affront in either her voice or manner.

Her brown eyes were as serene as a May morning; her scarlet lips were parted in a sunny smile that just disclosed her white, even teeth, and her voice was clear and sweet, without even a quiver to betray emotion of any kind.

Jennie Wild was a girl of many moods. Possessing the kindest heart in the world, and ever ready to run her nimble feet off to do any one a good turn, she was at the same time a veritable little "snapdragon." Touch her ever so lightly, and off she would go into paroxysms of mirth or rage, sympathy or scorn, as the case might be. Consequently she had looked for an outburst, or at least some manifestation, of indignation on Katherine's part, over the principal's recent sharpness and ungracious treatment.

"Yes, I'm a freshie," the girl replied, with a nod and one of her comical grimaces, but still curiously studying the placid face beside her, "but I'm not here as you are.