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 promising, 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 privately voted a bore; and more than once her eyes turned longingly to the beautiful september sunshine out of doors.

at recess 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, perking up the bow ends of the black sling 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," sniffed 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," groaned 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 queried.

"but it isn't 'well' at all," wailed 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 lugubrious 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 mischievously.

"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 veranda, 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 scowled, and made an impatient gesture—neither of which mrs. kennedy seemed to notice.

"you have your watch, i see," she went on serenely; "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 constrainedly, 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 irrelevance, she patted her blue-and-gold chatelaine watch remorsefully—and it may be noted 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 hesitation, 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, stoutly. "no sane 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 joyful,'" giggled tilly.

"sh-h!—tilly!" warned cordelia, in a horrified whisper. "he's coming. he'll hear you!"

but tilly was not to be silenced. tilly, for some reason, felt recklessly mischievous that morning.

"why, of course his, name is 'o be joyful,'" she cried in gay, shrill 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 impulsive movement, genevieve stepped to the new boy's side, and held out a frankly 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, stammered 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 precipitately.

behind him he left, for one brief minute, a dazed silence before tilly lifted her chin disagreeably and spoke.

"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, horrid 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, smoothly. "you see, it looked so—different!"

"tilly!" gasped 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 severely: "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 determined 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 humility. "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!" remonstrated 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 rebellious—and ashamed. cordelia looked ready to cry. genevieve kept her eyes on her books and seemed unaware that there was such a thing in the world as a girls' club, of which she was a prominent member. bertha, elsie, and alma divided their time between scowling at tilly and trying to attract genevieve's attention.

it was during the latin recitation, which came just before closing time at noon, that cordelia's perturbation culminated in a blunder that sent most of the class into convulsive giggles, and even brought a twitching smile to genevieve's tense lips.

cordelia, rising to translate in her turn, hurried blindly through a paragraph until she came to the words "sub jugum". now cordelia very well knew what "sub jugum" meant; but her eyes, at the moment, were divided between her book and genevieve's flushed cheeks, and so saw, apparently, but half of the word "jugum". at all events, the next moment the class were amazed to learn from cordelia's lips that cæsar sent the army—not "under the yoke" as was expected—but "under the jug."

cordelia knew, before the titters of the class told her, what she had said; and with hot blushes she made a hasty correction. but to cordelia, usually so conscientiously accurate and circumspect, the thing was a tragedy, and, as such, would not soon be forgotten by her. she knew, too, that the class would not let her forget it even could she herself do so. if she had doubted this, she did not doubt it longer, after school was dismissed, for she was assailed on all sides by a merry bombardment of gibes and questions as to just what sort of jug it was, anyhow, under which cæsar sent his army.

genevieve, only, had nothing to say. she did not, indeed, even glance toward cordelia. with averted face she hurried through the corridor and out the street door alone. in the yard a quick step behind her overtook her, and she found herself looking into the flushed, agitated face of the new boy.

o. b. j. holmes would not, at first sight, be called a good-looking youth. his face was freckled, and his nose was rather large. but his mouth was well-shaped, and his eyes were large and expressive. they looked into genevieve's now with a gaze that was clear and honest and manly.

"miss genevieve, may i walk with you a little way, please?" he asked with disarming directness. "i want to speak to you."

"why, of—of course," stammered genevieve. then she colored painfully: behind her she heard tilly's laughing voice, followed by alma's lower one, and harold's.

"i wanted to thank you for what you did this morning," began o. b. j. holmes, falling into step with her.

"oh, that wasn't—wasn't anything," stammered genevieve, nervously, still acutely conscious of the eyes that she knew were behind her.

the boy smiled a little wistfully.

"perhaps not, to you," he answered; "but if you'd been named 'o be joyful' and had had to suffer for it as i have, you'd think it was something."

"you don't mean to say your name is 'o be joyful'!" gasped genevieve.

he nodded, his face showing a deeper red.

"yes, that's what i wanted to tell you. i didn't feel square not to have you know it, after you stood up so bravely for 'oliver'. of course, if you like, you may tell the rest. i suppose i was foolish to try to keep it to myself, anyway," he sighed moodily.

"tell it! of course i sha'n't tell it," declared genevieve, warmly. she had forgotten all about those watching eyes behind her, now.

"thank you," smiled the boy again, a little wistfully. "miss hart knows it, of course. i told her at recess; and the principal, mr. jackson, knows it. he agreed to letting me be called 'oliver,' and so does miss hart. still, i don't suppose i can keep it, and it will get out. i—i supposed it had got out when i heard your friend this morning."

"well, it isn't out, and nobody knows it—but me," declared genevieve, with more warmth than grammar. "that was only some of tilly mack's nonsense; and when you know her better, you'll know that nobody pays any attention to what tilly says." genevieve stopped abruptly, and bit her lip. she was thinking that not so very long before, she herself had paid attention to something tilly mack said.

"i don't think mother ever realized just what such a name would be for a fellow to carry through life," said the boy, after a moment's silence. "there were five of us children, and she gave us all queer names—names that expressed something that had just been happening in the family, you understand. for instance, my oldest brother was born in a year when the crops failed, and they called him 'tribulation.' crops were good, you see, when i came," he added, with a rueful smile.

"why, how—how funny and—and terrible," breathed genevieve.

"yes, it was terrible—but mother never thought of it that way, i'm sure. i'm glad she can't know—now—just how hard it's been for me. when i came here, i knew i was a perfect stranger and i determined folks shouldn't know. i'd be 'oliver b. j. holmes.'"

"and you shall be 'oliver b. j. holmes,'" averred genevieve, lifting her chin. "oh, of course tilly will call you the other, and maybe some of the rest will, sometimes; but don't let that fret you for a moment. just remember that no one knows—for i sha'n't tell it. and now good-by. this is my street," she finished, with a cheery nod.

it was not easy for genevieve to go back to the short session of school that afternoon; but she went—and she tried to appear as if everything was as usual when she met cordelia and elsie at the corner. cordelia and elsie were only too glad to follow her lead. not until they met tilly in the school yard—and saw her turn hastily away without speaking—did they show how really constrained they felt.

genevieve, apparently, saw and felt nothing of this—but she never looked toward tilly that afternoon; and when school was dismissed she hurried cheerfully away with only a smiling nod toward cordelia and alma, whom she passed in the corridor.

at home genevieve went immediately to her practising—somewhat to mrs. kennedy's surprise. she practised, too, quite fifteen minutes over her hour—still more to mrs. kennedy's surprise. there was, also, a certain unsympathetic hardness in the chords and runs that puzzled the lady not a little; but in the face of their obvious accuracy, and of genevieve's apparent faithfulness, mrs. kennedy did not like to find fault.

just how long genevieve would have practised is doubtful, perhaps, had there not sounded an insistently repeated whistle of the hexagon club song from the garden. the girl went to the open window then.

"did you whistle, harold?" she asked, not too graciously.

"did i whistle?" retorted the boy, testily. "oh, no, i never whistled once—but i did four times! see here, i thought your practice-hour was an hour."

"it is."

"well, you've been working fifteen minutes over-time already."

"have i?"

"yes, you have; and your constitution positively needs a walk. come, it's your plain duty to your health. will you go?"

genevieve dimpled into a laugh.

"all right," she cried more naturally. "then i'll come. i'll be out in a jiffy."

"let's go up through the pasture to the woods," proposed harold, when genevieve appeared, swinging her hat.

"all right," nodded genevieve, somewhat listlessly. "anywhere."

in the woods, some time later, genevieve and harold dropped themselves down to rest. it was then that harold cleared his throat a little nervously.

"you have a new boy in school, i hear," he said.

genevieve turned quickly. for a moment she looked almost angry. then, unexpectedly, she laughed.

"you've been talking with tilly, i perceive," she remarked.

"oh, no; tilly has only been talking with me," retorted harold, laughing in his turn—though a little constrainedly.

genevieve grew suddenly sober.

"i don't care; i'm glad i did it," she declared. "you know what tilly can be when she wants to[275] be—and she evidently wanted to be, this morning. just because a boy is new and has got freckles and a queer name, is no reason why he should be made fun of like that."

"of course not!" then, still a little constrainedly, harold asked: "how do you like him? i saw you talking with him afterward."

genevieve frowned thoughtfully.

"why, i don't know—i hadn't thought," she answered. "but i reckon perhaps i like him. he talked quite a little, and he seemed rather nice, i think—just frank and folksy, you know. yes, i think i like him. i think we'll all like him."

"oh, of course," agreed harold without enthusiasm, getting suddenly to his feet. "well, i suppose we must be going."

"yes, of course," sighed genevieve, glancing down at her little blue-enamel watch; "but it is nice here!"

the homeward walk was somewhat of a silent one. harold was unusually quiet, and genevieve was wondering just how and when peace and happiness were to reign once more in the hexagon club. she was wondering, too, if ever she could be just the same to tilly—unless tilly had first something to say to her.

as it happened, genevieve's questions were answered, in a way, before she slept; for, after she had gone up to bed that night, there came a ring at the doorbell, followed, a moment later, by a tap at her door.

"it do be a note for you, miss genevieve," explained nancy.

"a note—for me?"

"yes, miss; from miss tilly, i think. she's down at the door with her brother."

genevieve did not answer. her eyes were devouring the note.

"dear genevieve:—" tilly had written. "i'm so ashamed i just can't live till you tell me you forgive me. i have begged howard to take me down there. i know i never, never can sleep till i've asked your pardon for being so perfectly horrid this morning. will you ever, ever forgive and love me again?

"your miserable, remorseful

"tilly.

"p. s. i think what you did was just the bravest, loveliest thing i ever saw a girl do.

"t. m.

"p. s. again. i'm so late i'm afraid you've gone to bed; but if you haven't, and if you do forgive me, come to your window and wave to me. i shall watch with what quentina would call soulful, hungry eyes.

"t."

"that's all right; thank you, nancy. there isn't any answer," smiled genevieve as she closed the door. the next moment she darted across the room, plucked a great pink aster from the vase on the table, hurried to the window and threw up the screen.

below she saw the automobile and the two figures therein. faintly visible, too, was the upturned face of the girl, containing, presumably, the "hungry, soulful eyes."

the next moment, plump into tilly's lap, fell a huge pink aster.