“Because I’ve always wanted one. It’s a bit lonesome, being an only child.”

“Sometimes you’d wish you were,” laughed Anne, “if your sister tried to boss you as mine frequently does. Joan and I are usually pretty good friends, but once in so often we have a flare-up.”

“Oh, I hope I’ll be able to get along peaceably with a room mate, if I have one,” said Patricia earnestly. “Maybe I wouldn’t though. I guess I must be pretty well spoiled.”

“Don’t look so worried!” ordered Anne. “And, by the way, don’t take to heart everything the girls may say. Living all together, as we do, we are pretty frank at times, but everybody takes it in good part.”

When the bus stopped, it was still raining, and the two girls ran hastily across the muddy road to a small rustic shelter.

“Well!” said Anne, shaking her wet umbrella. “Evidently none of the girls have come down to meet the bus. Don’t blame ’em much on such a ‘nausty’ day. So we’ll have to climb the hill by ourselves and take our own bags.”

“Bags!” exclaimed Patricia, clutching Anne’s arm, as she opened her green umbrella preparatory to starting up the hill.

“Yes, bags; what about them?”

“I—I haven’t mine! I must have left it on the bus.”

“Good night!” ejaculated Anne forcefully.

“What shall I do?”

“You can’t do a thing but wait and see if the driver finds it, and brings it back on his next trip. Is your name on it?”

“Yes.”

Anne closed her umbrella again, set her own bag in a corner, and loosened her jacket. “Might as well sit down, I suppose,” she commented, leading the way to a bench across the back of the shelter. “There won’t be another bus for an hour.”

“Oh, but you needn’t stay,” offered Patricia heroically. “I can wait alone.”

“Yes, if I’ll let you; but I won’t,” replied Anne, pushing back some little red curls which had escaped from under the brim of her smart green hat.

“It’s mighty good of you,” said 

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