plaits turned under and tied with a ribbon behind her ears, was a little
abashed at the attention she excited.

"What is she like, Katherine? tell us--the new girl at the Whittredges'."

"She is standing at the gate now," answered Katherine, looking over her
shoulder.

"Is she? Oh, where?"

"Let's walk by and see her."

"We'll be tardy if we do, and at any rate there is the carriage; perhaps
they will drive past."

"Look! there's Miss Genevieve. No, they are going the other way."

"What are you staring at?" demanded Belle Parton, joining the group. Belle
was a gypsy-looking girl with merry black eyes, and hair that refused to
be smooth like Katherine's, but continually fell in her eyes. As she spoke
she put her hat on the step and proceeded to adjust the round comb she
wore.

"The Whittredge girl. Have you seen her, Belle?" asked Charlotte Ellis.

"No; what is she like?"

"Katherine is the only one who has seen her; she says she is lovely."

"Oh, she is! You ought to see her, Belle. Maurice and I peeped through the