Kilmeny of the Orchard 
     
    
   
   
    
     past their first youth, very grim and angu— 
     
     lar and serious; and they could never 
     
     have been on speaking terms with a mir- 
     
     ror in their best days. But mark you, 
     
     they were excellent females—0h, very ex- 
     
     cellent. Times have changed with a ven- 
     
     geance, judging from the line-up of co—eds 
     
     to—day. There was one girl there who 
     
     can’t be a day over eighteen—and she 
     
     looked as if she were made out of gold 
     
     and roseleaves and dewdrops.” 
     
    

    
     “ The oracle speaks in poetry, 
     
     laughed Eric. “ That was Florence Per- 
     
     cival, who led the class in mathematics, 
     
     as I’m a living man. By many she is con— 
     
     sidered the beauty of her class. I can’t 
     
     say that such is my opinion. I don’t 
     
     greatly care for that blonde, babyish style 
     
     of loveliness—I prefer Agnes Campion. 
     
     Did you notice her—the tall, dark girl 
     
     with the ropes of hair and a sort of crim- 
     
     son, velvety bloom on her face, who took 
     
     honours in philosophy? ” 
     
    

    
     “ I 'did notice her,” said David em- 
     
    

    
     10 
     
    
   
   
    
     ’1