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Hill, Grace Livingston, 1865-1947

"The Girl from Montana"

There
seemed to be no end to it. Nothing but houses everywhere and
hurried-looking people, many of them working hard. Surely this must be
Philadelphia.
A large, beautiful building attracted her attention. There were handsome
grounds about it, and girls playing some game with a ball and curious
webbed implements across a net of cords. Elizabeth drew her horse to the
side of the road, and watched a few minutes. One girl was skilful, and hit
the ball back every time. Elizabeth almost exclaimed out loud once when a
particularly fine ball was played. She rode reluctantly on when the game
was finished, and saw over the arched gateway the words, "Janeway School
for Girls."
Ah! This was Philadelphia at last, and here was her school. She would go
in at once before she went to her grandmother's. It might be better.
She dismounted, and tied the horse to an iron ring in a post by the
sidewalk. Then she went slowly, shyly up the steps into the charmed
circles of learning. She knew she was shabby, but her long journey would
explain that. Would they be kind to her, and let her study?
She stood some time before the door, with a group of laughing girls not
far away whispering about her. She smiled at them; but they did not return
the salutation, and their actions made her more shy. At last she stepped
into the open door, and a maid in cap and apron came forward. "You must
not come in here, miss," she said imperiously.


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