The first day of school, for Genevieve, was not a success. Before two hours of it had passed, indeed, she declared to herself that Miss Hart, her new teacher, was not at all , and that she did not like her nearly so well as she had liked Miss Palmer the year before. Making the final arrangements as to her studies and recitations, too, Genevieve voted a bore; and more than once her eyes turned to the beautiful September sunshine out of doors.  
At time the Happy Hexagons met in the corridor and held what proved to be an indignation meeting.
 
"Well, I for one don't like her a bit," declared Tilly, up the bow ends of the black that hung about her neck.
 
"Nor I," echoed Genevieve.
 
"Not much like Miss Palmer last year, nor Miss Jones," said Bertha. "I told you we wouldn't get such a good one this term."
 
"But, girls, I think we ought to try to like her," ventured Cordelia, in a voice that told very plainly how she expected her remark to be received.
 
"Of course," Tilly, disdainfully.
 
"Oh, but I'm sure she won't be half bad when we come to know her," cried Alma Lane. "She was so nervous this morning, and I think acted troubled over something."
 
Tilly tossed her head.
 
"Troubled! I should think we were the ones that were troubled. Did you ever see such a lot of rules and regulations about what not to do? She's scarcely left a thing we can do."
 
"Oh, yes, she has," Genevieve. "We can sit still and look pleasant, and study, study, study! I reckon I shall have to, all right, too, this term, at the rate my studies and recitation hours are piling up," she finished, as the bell rang for them to go to their seats.
 
All days—even the worst of them—come to an end sometime; and at last Genevieve was free to go home. Half-way to the Kennedy house a soft whistle of the Happy Hexagons' Club song sounded behind her; and a moment later Harold Day caught up with her.
 
"Well?" he .
 
"But it isn't 'well' at all," Genevieve, with a shake of her head.
 
"So I judged from your face."
 
"But—have you ever had Miss Hart for a teacher?"
 
"No; she's new this year. We had Miss Holbrook in her place last year, and she was fine; but she got married, you know. She herself recommended Miss Hart for the position, I believe."
 
"Did she?" sighed Genevieve.
 
"What a face!" laughed Harold. "Suppose you tell me what is the matter with Miss Hart, eh?"
 
"I can't. It's just an intangible, indefinable 'don't-like-her' feeling. She doesn't sit still a minute, and she's awful on rules. Tilly calls her 'Miss Hartless.'"
 
Harold laughed.
 
"Trust Tilly to call her something!" he rejoined. "But I don't believe the lady will be half bad when you get used to her."
 
"That's what your cousin Alma says."
 
"Well, I believe she's right," declared Harold. "It sounds to me as if Miss Hart were nervous and afraid."
 
Genevieve opened her eyes.
 
"Afraid! A teacher afraid!"
 
"Wouldn't you be afraid if you had to follow where you know there had been such favorites as Miss Holbrook and Miss Palmer were?"
 
"Why, I never thought of it that way," frowned Genevieve. "I didn't suppose teachers ever had—er—feelings like that."
 
"Well, I suppose teachers are—folks, like the rest of us," hazarded the youth, as he stopped a minute at the foot of the Kennedys' front walk.
 
Genevieve shook her head .
 
"I don't," she protested. "They always seem to me like things you buy for school, just like you do the books and chalk, and that they come in boxes all graded and sorted—primary, grammar, high school, French, German, and all that," she flashed over her shoulder, as she skipped up the walk toward the house.
 
"There!" sighed Genevieve, bounding up on to the , and dropping her books into a chair. "I'm going for a ride with Tilly, Aunt Julia, please, if you don't mind."
 
"Very well, dear; but don't stay too long. There's your practicing, you know."
 
Genevieve , and made an impatient gesture—neither of which Mrs. Kennedy seemed to notice.
 
"You have your watch, I see," she went on ; "so I don't think you'll forget."
 
Genevieve bit her lip. She threw a hurried glance into Mrs. Kennedy's face; but that, too, Mrs. Kennedy did not appear to notice.
 
"No, Aunt Julia," said Genevieve, a little , as she went to saddle her horse, "I sha'n't—forget."
 
When quite by herself around the corner of the house, she drew a long breath.
 
"Sometimes," she muttered fiercely behind her teeth, "sometimes I—I just wish folks weren't so good to me! Seems to me I just can't waste a whole hour of this tiny little bit of glorious day that is left, practising a stupid old 'one, two—one, two—one, two!'" Then, with apparent , she patted her blue-and-gold chatelaine watch remorsefully—and it may be right here that she came back in ample time for her hour of practising before supper.
 
There was a new boy at school the next morning. This fact in itself did not particularly interest the Happy Hexagons until they learned his name. It was "O. B. J. Holmes." When the initials did not seem quite to satisfy Miss Hart, he hesitated visibly, then said, with a very painful blush, that the "O" might be put down "Oliver." It was plainly on the teacher's tongue to ask about the other letters; but, after a moment's , she passed over the matter, and turned to something else.
 
As usual the Happy Hexagons found themselves together at recess time, and as was natural, perhaps, the subject of the new boy came up for discussion.
 
"I don't believe 'Oliver' is ever his name," declared Tilly, . "No youth in his right mind would blush so beautifully over just 'Oliver.' Besides, he didn't say it was Oliver."
 
"I saw Miss Hart talking to him as I came out just now," announced Bertha, "and his face was even redder than ever. Hers was getting red, too."
 
"Then there is something," cried Genevieve, excitedly, "and it's a mystery. I love mysteries! 'O. B. J.'—what a really funny set of letters!"
 
"Must be 'Oliver Ben Johnson,'" laughed Bertha.
 
"Sounds to me like 'O Be ,'" Tilly.
 
"Sh-h!—Tilly!" warned Cordelia, in a whisper. "He's coming. He'll hear you!"
 
But Tilly was not to be silenced. Tilly, for some reason, felt recklessly that morning.
 
"Why, of course his, name is 'O Be Joyful,'" she cried in gay, tones that carried the words straight to the ears of a rather awkward-appearing boy coming toward them. "How could it be anything else?"
 
The boy blushed hotly. For a moment it seemed as if he would stop and speak; but the next minute he had turned away his face, and was passing them hurriedly.
 
It was then that the unexpected happened. With a quick little movement, Genevieve stepped to the new boy's side, and held out a cordial hand.
 
"How do you do, Mr. Oliver Holmes," she began breathlessly, but with hurried determination. "I am Genevieve Hartley, and I'd like to welcome you to our school. These are my friends: Cordelia Wilson, Alma Lane, Bertha Brown, Elsie Martin, and Tilly Mack. We hope you'll soon get acquainted and feel at home here," she finished, her face almost as painful a red as was the boy's.
 
O. B. J. Holmes clutched Genevieve's hand, a confused something in response to the introductions, and flung a terrifiedly uncertain bow in the direction of the wide-eyed girls; then he turned and fled .
 
Behind him he left, for one brief minute, a dazed silence before Tilly lifted her chin disagreeably and .
 
"Well, dear me! For so marked a bid for his favor, seems to me our young friend doesn't show proper appreciation—to run away like that!"
 
Genevieve colored angrily.
 
"That was no bid for his favor, and you know it, Tilly Mack!"
 
"No?" teased Tilly, hatefully. "Well, I'm sure I should have thought it was if a perfect stranger flung herself in my way like that."
 
"Tilly, Tilly—don't!" begged Cordelia, almost tearfully.
 
It was Genevieve's turn to lift a disdainful chin. She eyed Tilly scornfully.
 
"Oh, no, you wouldn't—not if some other perfect stranger had just called out a particularly hateful, joke about something you were not in the least to blame for! If you hadn't said what you did, I shouldn't have said what I did, Tilly Mack. As it was, I—I just couldn't help it; I was so sorry for him!"
 
"Oh, it was just being sorry, then! Oh, excuse me; I didn't know," cooed Tilly, . "You see, it looked so—different!"
 
"Tilly!" Cordelia. "Genevieve, don't you mind one bit what she says!" But Genevieve, without a word, had turned and was walking swiftly away.
 
"Well, Tilly Mack," chorused several indignant voices; and Elsie Martin added : "I've got my opinion of you—after all Genevieve has just done for us! I'm sure, I think it was lovely of her to speak to that boy like that!"
 
Tilly flushed uncomfortably. Her tongue had gone much farther than she had intended it to go. She did not like to think, either, of that Texas trip just then. But the very shame that she felt made her only the more not to show it—then.
 
"Pooh! there wasn't a thing I said that anybody need to make such a fuss about," she declared loftily; then, as she spied Harold Day coming toward them, she called in a merry voice: "Seen the new boy, Harold? His name is 'O. B. J. Holmes.' I say his name is 'O Be Joyful,' and the girls are shocked at my disrespect."
 
"Is that so?" laughed Harold. "Well, I'm not sure I'd like that name myself very well—even if 'tis a cheerful one! Where's Genevieve? One doesn't often see one of you without all of you."
 
"Oh, she was here, but she's gone. She was the most shocked of all," answered Tilly, with mock . "Probably she's gone to tell him so. You see, she shook hands with him and introduced us all around, and said she'd like to welcome him and that she hoped he'd enjoy it here."
 
"Oh, Tilly!" Cordelia.
 
"Why, Cordelia, didn't she?" asked Tilly, in a particularly innocent tone of voice.
 
"Y-yes," admitted Cordelia, reluctantly, "only—" The bell rang and the group broke up, with Cordelia's sentence still unfinished.
 
The rest of the day for the Happy Hexagons was not an easy one. Tilly looked ............