CHAPTER I.

THE CUP AND SAUCER.

Grace Clifford and Katharine Hallock were such dear friends, and spent so much time together, that you could not think of one without thinking of the other, and people linked their names together, and spoke of "Grace and Cassy," just as one speaks of a "cup and saucer" or a "hook and eye."

Yet they were not in the least alike. There was something very eager and vivid about Grace, with her bright blue eyes, auburn curls, and brilliant color. She had an ecstatic way of laughing, and a wild, agonized way of weeping. She clapped her hands for joy, or wrung them for grief. Her tears fell in showers, but afterward the sun was sure to shine out clearly.

Cassy, on the other hand, was a gentle, brown-eyed little maiden, with long lashes sweeping her cheeks, and brown hair lying quietly behind her ears. She never stormed nor raved.

It was a very rare thing for the girls to disagree. They had such a dear love for each other that they decided never to marry, but to live together in a charming cottage adorned with woodbine, and keep chickens, pigeons and a cat.

At the beginning of our story they were nearly twelve years old, and closer friends than ever. They had exchanged rings as pledges of everlasting fidelity. The ring which Cassy gave Grace was set with gems--ruby, emerald, garnet, amethyst, ruby, and diamond--the initials spelling the word "Regard." This regard-ring had once belonged to Mrs. Hallock; but after being broken and mended it was too small for her, and she had given it to Cassy.

In exchange, Grace put on her friend's third finger a pretty emerald, which had been a good-by present from Mr. Augustus Allen.

One day in March these two Hoosier girls were walking hand in hand down Vine Street, where there was always a fine shade in the summer. Now the trees were leafless, and the bright sun shadowed forth little flickering pictures of their branches on the girls' shawls and hats.

"Why, Cassy Hallock," said Grace, shading her face with one hand, "this sun is bright enough to blind an eagle."

"But it doesn't blind _me_," laughed Cassy. "I can almost look at it without winking."

"Then you must be a half-eagle, Cassy. Why, you don't mind the weather, or any of the bothers! You never fly out of patience! O, Cassy Hallock, I think you're splendid!"

As this was not the first time Cassy had been eulogized as "splendid," she was by no means astonished, but continued to move quietly along, with her usual composure. Grace Clifford seemed a little nervous. Every now and then she would drop her friend's hand, and gather a few blades of grass, or pick up a pebble, then seize Cassy's hand again, and walk on. Cassy watched her companion with some curiosity. "Now, Gracie Clifford," said she at last, "you're keeping something to yourself; I just know you are."

"What if I am?" said Grace, tossing an orange into the air and catching it as it fell; "I needn't tell you every single thing, Cassy!"

"Yes, you must, Gracie Clifford," was the firm reply. "I'm your dearest friend, and am I not going off next week visiting?"

"Well, I've nothing to tell, any way, but just thoughts," said Grace, pocketing her orange, and taking Cassy's hand again, while they each hopped on one foot like happy little robins. "I've a great many thoughts whizzing in my mind all the time, Cassy. I've been thinking lately about-- I mean, I've been wishing, for ages and ages, that I'd been born a boy; but it's silly, and so I never say it."

"Why, Gracie Clifford, I've heard you say it five hundred times! I'd as soon be a girl, because I _am_, and there's the end of it."

"But to grow up and be a woman!" said Grace, with a shudder. "Do you ever think of the wrinkles, and the cross kitchen girls, and the children that have to cut their teeth? And you can't sleep nights; and then they won't let you vote!"

"I don't want to vote, Gracie; what would _I_ vote for?"

"O, child! For union and liberty, and all the good things. Don't you go to encouraging slavery, Cassy!"

"No," laughed Cassy, "I won't."

"And don't let such swearing people as Mr. Blake go to Congress. But there, _you_ can't help it, Cassy; _you_ never'll vote, neither will I. And there's Horace, --what do you suppose that boy cares about politics? But _he'll_ vote fast enough."

"O, yes," chimed in Cassy, beginning to grow indignant, "only because he's a boy!"

"And he'll come to me, Horace will, just as likely as not, Cassy, and I'll have to tell him which way to vote."

The girls looked rather scornful as they pictured to themselves an imaginary Horace, tall and twenty-one, anxiously inquiring of his sister what ticket he should throw into the ballot-box.

"Now, you see," said Grace, "it's very absurd to make a fuss that way over boys. They feel it. It sets them up on a throne."

"O, yes, I reckon it does, Gracie. Isn't it right funny now to look at boys, and see the airs they put on?"

"It is _so_," said Grace, sweeping back her curls with a gesture of disdain. "There's their secret societies, Cassy."

"Yes, Gracie, and I don't approve of any such goings on. Johnny looks so wise and important! How I wish I knew what it's all about!"

"Why, Cassy, I wouldn't know if I could. I'd scorn to care."

"So would _I_ scorn to care," replied Cassy, quickly. "O, of course! It's of no account, you might know."

"What vexes me, Cassy, is the way they look down on us girls, and boast that they can keep secrets and we can't, when it's no such a thing, Cassy Hallock, as you and I very well know--we that have kept secrets for years and years, and never, never told, and never will to our dying days!"

Cassy nodded her head emphatically, implying that words could not do justice to the subject.

"Cassy, dear, you asked me, a little while ago, what I was thinking about; and now I'll tell you. I've been wondering if we mightn't get up a secret society our own selves!"

Cassy stopped short, laughed, and said, "Capital!" forgetting that not five minutes before she had expressed contempt for such "goings on." "How many girls will we have, Gracie?"

"Why, our graduating class, that's seven. We don't go much with the other girls, you know. I'm so glad you like the idea, Cassy! and, now you do, I'm going to have it. I've just made up my mind!"

"But suppose the others don't approve?"

"O, pshaw, Cassy! that's of no sort of consequence! What you and I think _they'll_ think--all but Isa Harrington, and we'll soon manage her."

"Well," replied Cassy, drawing a long breath, "don't let's walk quite so fast, Gracie, we'll be at the schoolhouse before we know it, and you and I must have everything arranged between us. What name, Gracie?"

"What think of calling ourselves Princesses of the-- the-- some kind of a seal? The seal must be golden, or diamond, or something else that's precious."

"The Ruby Seal," suggested Cassy.

"O, that's it, dear! Our _lips_ are the ruby seal, Cassy, and never, never will they open to utter the secrets of our order. We'll promise to love, honor and protect one another as long as we all shall live. Our motto will be, "_Vera ad finem_." I suppose you don't know what that means, Cissy; but it's "_true to the end_," Robin says."

"I've only one thing to say," interrupted Cassy; "this mustn't make any difference between you and me, Gracie; we'll be good friends enough with the others, but--"

"Yes, Cassy, good friends enough; but it's you and I that are the _dear_ friends. We'll be "_vera_" --that's _true_ --to the others, but never the least speck intimate. But hush! Here we are at the schoolhouse. Don't you breathe a word, you know, Cassy! We'll take our seats just as sober as if nothing had happened!"