the big punch bowl of
lemonade stood.

"Don't ask me!" returned Elfreda savagely. "I managed to fill her dance
card and supposed everything was lovely. She dances fairly well. If
she'd only keep quiet, smile and dance calmly along. But, no, she must
talk!" Elfreda's round face settled into lines of disgust. "She says
such outrageously personal things to her partners. I know of three
different girls she has offended so far. What will become of her before
the evening is over?" she inquired gloomily. "She told me I was too
stout to dance well, but I didn't mind that. Stout or not, she will be
lucky to have even me to dance with at the rate she's going. Let's drown
our mortification in lemonade."

"Poor Elfreda," sympathized Grace. "I wish I could help you, but,
honestly, I feel as though it would be hardly fair to myself to make
further advances in that direction."

"Don't do it," advised Elfreda, quickly, handing Grace a cup of fruit
lemonade. "I'll manage to steer her through this dance. But next time
some one else may do the inviting. The two classes make a good showing,
don't they?"

"Beautiful," commented Grace. "The gymnasium looks prettier than it did
last year. That sounds conceited, doesn't it?"

"It's true, though," averred Elfreda stoutly. "Doesn't Miriam look
stunning to-night? I think she is the handsomest dark girl I ever saw,
don't you?"

"With one exception," smiled Grace.

"Show me the exception, then," challenged Elfreda.

"I will some fine day," promised Grace. "She's in Italy now."

"You mean the girl you speak of as Eleanor?" asked Elfreda curiously.

Grace nodded. "She is one of my dearest friends and belongs to our
sorority at home. At one time she was my bitterest enemy," she continued
reminiscently. "She was so self-willed and domineering that none of us
could endure her. She entered the junior class in high school when
Miriam, Anne and I did. For a year and a half she made life miserable
for all of us, then something happened and she turned out gloriously.
I'll tell you all about it some other time."

"Was she worse than the Anarchist?" asked Elfreda sceptically.

"There is no comparison," replied Grace promptly. "Still, the Anarchist
may have possibilities of which we know nothing."

"I wish she would give a demonstration of them to-night then," muttered
Elfreda. "I suppose I'll have to get busy and look her up. It is
dangerous to leave her to her own devices. She may have offende