The girl, absorbed in her work, sleeked her jet-black hair, frowned and shook her head. She knew no one in Boston.
'But, Miss...'
'I must finish this before Captain Poggy comes back. If any one really does want to see me, ask him to come back later.'
The gentleman left a large box. Evidently this box had come from afar. It was wrapped in Italian paper, and stuck with labels and customs seals. When Lanice saw the handwriting, she drew back. 'I'll open it later; I'll rest now.' Her silk skirts swished up the stairs. Mamma had addressed the label. Wicked, wicked Mamma had sent the box.
She lay in her small yellow room and composed herself. Perhaps it was a little statue that Mamma had sent her to Amherst and which some one had carried to her here. Perhaps it was a Swiss music box, or an alabaster Leaning Tower of Pisa, or a Roman vase. She wished it had never reached her. An uncomfortable tenderness towards Mamma stirred in her heart and hurt her. Mamma with her apple-blossom face...Surely Mamma was the happiest person in Lanice's world. Even now she was seeing the Wonders of the Old World, Switzerland and Italy...Italy! Italy! Roger Cuncliffe—the pretty boy with the light walk and feverish cheeks. The awfully sick boy who had been brought up in Europe. Lanice could instantly recall his narrow face, black curls, burning color, and cattish grace contrasting with the heavier virtues of the other students. Some-
