people—for at the foot of the stairs she had to clutch the banister to keep from colliding with Miss Walters, the beautiful and much loved head of the school. At Billie’s sudden appearance the latter seemed inclined to be alarmed, then her eyes twinkled, and as she looked at Billie she chuckled, yes, actually chuckled. “Beatrice Bradley,” she said, with a shake of her head as she passed on, “I’ve done my best with you, but it’s of no use. You’re utterly incorrigible.” Billie looked thoughtful as she seated herself at the table, and a moment later, under cover of the general conversation, she leaned over and whispered to Laura. “Miss Walters said something funny to me,” she confided. “I’m not quite sure yet whether she was calling me names or not.” “What did she say?” asked Laura, looking interested. “She said I was incorrigible,” Billie whispered back. “Incorrigible,” there was a frown on Laura’s forehead, then it suddenly cleared and she smiled beamingly. “Why yes, don’t you remember?” she said. “We had it in English class the other day. Incorrigible means wicked, you know—bad. You can’t reform ’em, you know—incorrigibles.” The last word was mumbled through a mouthful of soup. “Can’t reform ’em!” Billie repeated in dismay. “Goodness, do you suppose that’s what she really thinks of me?” “I don’t see why she shouldn’t,” Laura said wickedly, and Billie would surely have thrown something at her if Miss Arbuckle’s eye had not happened at that moment to turn in her direction. Miss Arbuckle’s eye brought to Billie’s mind the teacher’s trouble, and she confided it in a low tone to Laura. “Humph,” commented Laura, her mind only on the fun they were going to have that afternoon, “I’m sorry, of course, but I don’t believe any old album would make me shed tears.” “Don’t be so sure of that, Laura.” “What? Cry over an old album?” and Laura looked her astonishment. “But suppose the album had in it the pictures of those you loved very dearly—pictures perhaps of those
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