"Miss Minturn, I've loved you ever since the day you came to Hilton. You are a dear—you have been just as kind as you could be to me, and you may say anything you like," she impulsively returned.
"Thank you; that is giving me a good deal of license," was the laughing response; "but what I wanted to say was—make the getting of your education, instead of fun, your chief object, and don't spoil your record by breaking rules."
"As I have to-day, for instance?" supplemented Jennie, flushing.
"Yes, to-day, and—on some other occasions that I could mention."
The girl gave vent to a hearty, rollicking laugh.
"You manage to see considerable with those innocent eyes of yours," she said, after a moment. "But I don't get very much fun after all. With all my work and my studies there is precious little time left me for recreation, and, sometimes, I get so full I just have to kick over the traces. But—surely you don't think I could get any harm from your service to-day," she concluded, demurely.
"That is not the point, Miss Mischief, and you know it. Of course, there was nothing but good in the service for you, or anyone. But you didn't find anything in it—did you?—to countenance disobedience?"
"No," said Jennie, seriously; "and I suppose, too, that if any of the teachers or girls had seen me come away from the hall with you it might have given the impression that you had countenanced my going. But, Miss Minturn, I have wanted to get at the secret of— of your dearness, ever since you came here. But I promise you, though, I will not put you in jeopardy again by running away to your church."
Katherine nodded her approval at this assurance, then changed the subject, and they chatted pleasantly until they reached the seminary.
After dinner Katherine repaired, as she had been requested, to Miss Reynolds' room. She found her teacher sitting at her desk, her Bible and "Science and Health" open before her.