pared lunch. The boy clutched it and ran with a side-wise hop like a wild thing.
Elnora covered the dishes and cup, polished the spoon, replaced it, and closed the beautiful case. She caught her breath in a tremulous laugh.
"If Aunt Margaret knew that, she'd never forgive me," she said. "It seems as if secrecy is literally forced upon me, and I hate it. What will I do for lunch? I'll have to go sell my arrows and keep enough money for a restaurant sandwich."
So she walked hurriedly into town, sold her points at a good price, deposited her funds, and went away with a neat little bank book and the note from the Limberlost carefully folded inside. Elnora passed down the great hall that morning, and no one paid the slightest attention to her. The truth was she looked so like every one else that she was perfectly inconspicuous. But in the coat room there were members of her class. Surely no one intended it, but the whisper was too loud.
"Look at the girl from the Limberlost in the clothes that woman gave her!"
Elnora turned on them. "I beg your pardon," she said unsteadily, "I couldn't help hearing that! No one gave me these clothes. I paid for them myself."
Some one muttered, "Pardon me," but incredulous faces greeted her.
Elnora felt driven. "Aunt Margaret selected them, and she meant to give them to me," she explained, "but I
