Four girls, walking
two by two, their arms waist-encircling, their voices mingling in rapid
talk, punctuated with rippling laughter--and, now and then, as their
happy spirits fairly bubbled and overflowed, breaking into a few waltz
steps to the melody of a dreamy song hummed by one of their number. The
sun, shining through the trees, cast patches of golden light on the stone
sidewalk, and, as the girls passed from sunshine to shadow, they made a
bright, and sometimes a dimmer, picture on the street, whereon were other
groups of maidens. For school was out.
"Betty Nelson, the idea is perfectly splendid!" exclaimed the tallest of
the quartette; a stately, fair girl with wonderful braids of hair on
which the sunshine seemed to like to linger.
"And it will be such a relief from the ordinary way of doing things,"
added the companion of the one who thus paid a compliment to her chum
just in advance of her. "I detest monotony!"
"If only too many things don't happen to us!" This somewhat timid
observation came from the quietest of the four--she who was walking with
the one addressed as Betty.
"Why, Amy Stonington!" cried the girl who had first spoken, as she tossed
her head to get a rebellious lock of hair out of her dark eyes.
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