MARIE FINDS A FRIEND It was on a very cold January afternoon, and Cyril was hurrying up the hill toward Billy's house, when he was startled to see a slender young woman sitting on a curbstone with her head against an electric-light post.

He stopped abruptly.
"I beg your pardon, but--why, Miss Hawthorn! It is Miss Hawthorn; isn't it ?" Under his questioning eyes the girl's pale face became so painfully scarlet that in sheer pity the man turned his eyes away.

He thought he had seen women blush before, but he decided now that he had not.
"I'm sure--haven't I met you at Miss Neilson's?
Are you ill?
Can't I do something for you ?" he begged.
"Yes--no--that is, I AM Miss Hawthorn, and I've met you at Miss Neilson's," stammered the girl, faintly.

"But there isn't anything, thank you, that you can do--Mr.Henshaw.

I stopped to--rest." The man frowned.
"But, surely--pardon me, Miss Hawthorn, but I can't think it your usual custom to choose an icy curbstone for a resting place, with the thermometer down to zero.