mation of

's School for three years, without any perceptible result. She was the toughest l

was the name still used by her teachers, and on the written reports that were mailed monthly to her Texas guardian. But "Kid" was the more appropriate na

losing them. She had cut her teeth on a poker chip, and drunk her milk from a champagne glass. Her father had died-quite opportunely-while his latest fortune was at its height, and had left his little daughte

eft her behind to be molded by the culture of the East. But so far, the culture of the East h

ion of a Spanish waltz, an exposition of the real thing, as practised by the Mexican cow-punchers on her guardian's ranch. It was a performance that left him sympathetically breat

g lady traine

shments, but she had never yet been guilty of any actual felony. For three years, however, St. Ursula's had been hol

, it was of an entir

ble little soul, the essence of everything feminine. The Dowager had put the two together, in the hope that Rosalie's gentle

e chang

tt's room one evening in a s

cried. "Kid McCoy says

the bath towel with which she

nning pale blue baby ribbon through

d to her?" was

a book that Mae Me

ful billows about her knees, and allowed two braids of curly yellow hair to hang picturesquely over her s

d Patty with a slightly per

cement and then, having engaged everybody's attention, settle do

ves and snakes and centipedes. Her mother died and she was sent back home to boarding-school when she was a tiny little thing. Her father was quite bad. H

ing a yawn. Rosalie had a way of trailing off into go

his death-bed he entrusted Rosamond-that was her name-to his best friend to finish bringing up. So when Rosamond went to live with her guardian, and took charg

glibly supplied, "and wished that he had lived so as to be more wort

ad it!" sa

know of,"

an air of challenge, "they fe

n, smiled a blessing on the dear little daughter wh

reed Rosalie

d not swallow, but she knew from mortifying ex

," Patty commented, "but wh

d it the minute I saw the book, and I had the awfulest time making her read it. She made fun of it at first,

talking about?" Patty was c

wicked. Most ranchmen are. He lives all alone with only cow-punchers for companions, and he needs a sweet womanly influenc

olled in glee. Rosalie rose and reg

ng so funny-I think

y gurgled. "She can't even pretend she's a lad

as accomplished greater wonder

tributed the felicitous change in her deportment to the good influence of Rosalie, and though the

rough European Travel and Art History nights with clasped hands and a sweetly pensive air, where she used to drive her neighbors wild by a solid

s of the transformed Margarite, dressed in white, sitting before the piano in the twilight singing softly the "Rosary," while Guardie watched her with f

e entire school felt an electric thrill at sight of Miss McCoy walking up the aisle with downcast eyes, and hands demurely clasping

he school was almost beginning to forget that th

ridor. Rosalie and Margarite and an assemblage of neighbors held earnest conferences as to what she should wear and how she should behave. They final

m that you are no longer a child. You have grown to womanhood in the p

with a slightly doub

and boots and spurs, and, in any case, for a sombrero. But the horrible truth must be told. He wore a frock coat of the most unimpeachable cut, with a silk hat and a

rst is sti

woman with a low voice and gracious manners. She sang for the girls after dinner, and as sixty-four pairs of eyes studied the beautiful presence, sixty-four-no, sixty-three-of her auditors decided to grow up to be exactly like her. Margarite did the honors in a state of dazed incompr

on the head and told her to be a good little kiddie and mind her teachers. His wife, with a

versation, and the girls presumably wrote letters home. But that night, the South Corridor followed no such peaceful

he kaffee klatsch below. Miss Lord came t

rt, scarlet stockings and a scarlet sash, was mounted upon a table, giving an imitation

ne suddenly warned in fright

Margarite. I'm Kid Mc

way and she quite suddenly climbed down. For once, Miss Lord was without words

ing in a Chu

with Patty and Conny for a trembling hour. "Lights-out" had rung before she summoned courage to steal back to the darkened South Corridor. The sound of smothered

nd Lordie-she's a horrid, snoop

nth, have to learn five psalms by

er work them off. She had no right to ma

free herself from Rosalie's embrace. "She'll never hav