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Mt. Hamilton which was not as beautiful as Mt. St. Helena but a good substitute nevertheless. Almost at once I began feeling--not exactly at home there--but at least that for the next two years I would be in a beautiful and friendly environment.

My first sight of the campus also was reassuring. I don't remember what I had expected but what I found was a group of old, Spanish-style buildings forming a charming quadrangle. Beyond were the same species of trees that we had at home. I could see the quadrangle from my window in the boarding house. Lolling on the lawn in the sunshine were groups of students and I immediately noted, being a teen-ager, that there were a number of boy-girl pairs among them. It looked very pleasant.

But the most thrilling surprise still lay in store. i soon discovered that two women who were very dear to me were members of the faculty in the school. One was an old family friend, Emily Nixon. "Nicky," as I still call her, was an instructress in practice-teaching. The other was Elizabeth McDermott, the art teacher who had given me my first lessons