meeting her in the hall with a heap of black shawls and aprons on her arm.
"Hush!" whispered Rose, mysteriously; "don't say a word. Senator Brown is dead,—our senator, you know. I'm going to put my window into mourning for him, that's all. It's a proper token of respect."
Two hours later, Mrs. Nipson, walking sedately across the common, noticed quite a group of students, in the president's side yard, looking up at the Nunnery. She drew nearer. They were admiring Rose's window, hung with black, and decorated with a photograph of the deceased senator, suspended in the middle of a wreath of weeping-willow. Of course she hurried upstairs, and tore down the shawls and aprons; and, equally of course, Rose had a lecture and a mark; but, dear me! what good did it do? The next day but one, as Katy and Clover sat together in silent study hour, their lower drawer was pushed open very noiselessly and gently, till it came out entirely, and lay on the floor, and in the aperture thus formed appeared Rose's saucy face
