The great green campus between Glenwood Hall and the road looked to be scattered over with snowdrifts. That is the

way it must have looked to an aviator had one sailed over the old school and looked down upon the campus on this

beautiful June day.

But the snow drifts were of lawn and roses. Every girl in the school was dressed in white, and every girl wore, or

carried, white roses. They were grouped by classes, or in little cliques, while a photographer from the city with a

great camera arranged to take a picture of the scene.

“Hope he’ll hurry up,” groaned Cologne, sitting with Dorothy and Tavia and some of the other girls. “My foot’s

asleep.”

“Hush-a-by! don’t wake it up,” drawled Tavia. “You know, Cologne, you haven’t really had a good sleep this

half.”

“Especially this last month or six weeks,” groaned Ned Ebony. “Hasn’t old Olaine just kept us on the hop?”

“Why,” said Nita Brent, thoughtfully, “I had241 been thinking Olaine was a whole lot nicer than she used to be.”

“Certain sure she’s done better by us since Easter,” said Molly Richards, earnestly.

“You’re famous for seeing the best side of a thing, Dicky,” laughed Ned. “I tell you she’s pushed me hard.”

“And me!” “And us-uns!”

The wail became general. Dorothy’s mellow laugh brought them to time.

“Where does the giggle come in, Miss Dale?” demanded Edna Black.

“Sh! don’t disturb your pose,” begged one of the others. “That photographer is getting ready.”

“Well, what does Doro mean by laughing?” complained Rose-Mary, otherwise Cologne.

“I mean to say,” said Doro, quietly, “that you girls all amuse me. Of course we’ve been pushed this half—and

especially this last month.”

“And Olaine has done it!” declared Edna.

“Quite so. It was her business to. Do you realize that is what Mrs. Pangborn hired her for? And it’s too bad she

isn’t going to stay.”

“Not going to stay?” cried one.

“Olaine just delighted in pushing us,” observed another.

“Of course she did,” Tavia said to the last speaker. “Doesn’t Doro point out the fact that that was her job

here?”

242 “And isn’t it going to be her job after this term?” demanded Edna Black.

“Oh!” cried another girl. “This combination of Doro Dale and Tavia Travers knows everything!”

“If that is so, they might scatter some of their intelligence among the faithful,” drawled Cologne.

“First, why should we accept Olaine as a slave driver, and thank her for it?” demanded Edna.

“Because this graduating class has higher marks and ‘does Mrs. Pangborn proud’ more than any class ever graduated

from Glenwood. Didn’t you know that?” replied Dorothy.

“And I guess we can thank Olaine,” said Tavia, nodding. “I know I can.”

“And I! And I!” chorused others.

“She was awful crusty about it,” said Molly, “but she did know how to make us climb.”

“We’re some climbers,” remarked Tavia, airily. “I’ve got so high myself that I feel dizzy.”

“But say! about Olaine. Is she really going to leave?” impatiently demanded one miss who could not keep her mind

on the main point.

“Wait!” commanded Dorothy. “The man is going to take the pictures. Do be still now.”

“Steady, my hearties,” drawled Tavia; but her lips hardly moved.

There was silence all over the great lawn. It was then that the aviator—had he flown over the243 spot suddenly—

might have thought the white of lawn and roses heaps of unsullied snow, for the girls were just as still as they

could be.

“Thank you, young ladies. That is all!” shouted a little, fat man in tall hat and frock-coat. “We will not

trouble you longer.”

And in a minute the groups were broken up, and the girls in white were flitting here and there over the green. So

much was going on before the bell rang for the graduation class to march to the hall that the question about Miss

Olaine was not just then answered.

But Dorothy showed Tavia two letters she had received that morning from Dalton. The outside envelope was addressed

to her in the large, rather stiff lettering of Tom Moran; but inside there was a little pink note enclosed with the

red-headed young man’s letter.

“Dear little Celia!” exclaimed Tavia. “Let me read it, Doro.”

And the difficult little scrawl from “jes’ the cutest little thing” brought both laughter and tears to the eyes

of tender-hearted Tavia:

    “‘My loverly, dere miss Doroty Dale:

    ‘My teacher says she will look ove this letter for mistaks; but she says to ime larnin fast as can be. I wuz

goin to kep hous for Tom Moran but he says no not yet sometime praps. I gotter go to244 schol fust. But Tom Moran is

got a big, big house and hes got f............