d half
the company by this time." Elfreda strolled off in search of her
troublesome charge. Grace crossed the gymnasium, her keen eyes darting
from the floor, where groups of daintily gowned girls stood exchanging
gay badinage, and resting after the last waltz, to the chairs and divans
placed at intervals against the walls that were for the most part
unoccupied.

Everyone seemed to be dancing. Grace remembered with a start that she
had seen nothing of Ruth Denton. She had waved to Arline across the room
on entering the gymnasium, and had not caught a glimpse of her since. "I
must find Ruth," she reflected, "and tell her about to-morrow. Perhaps
Anne has told her. She promised she would." Espying Mildred Taylor,
Grace remembered with sudden contrition that she had not asked the
little freshman to dance. "I suppose she hasn't a single dance left,"
murmured Grace regretfully. "At any rate, I'll ask her now." Approaching
Mildred she said in her frank, straightforward fashion, "I'm so sorry I
overlooked you, Miss Taylor. I intended asking you to dance first of
all."

The "cute" little freshman turned her head away from Grace's apologetic
gray eyes. "It doesn't matter," she answered in a queer, strained voice.
"My card was full long ago."

"I hope you are not hurt or offended at my seeming neglect," insisted
Grace anxiously.

"Not in the least," was the almost curt rejoinder. "I do not think I
shall stay much longer. I have a headache."

"I'm so sorry," said Grace sympathetically. "Can I do anything for you?"

Mildred Taylor did not answer. Her lip quivered and her eyes filled with
tears. She brushed them angrily away, saying with a petulance entirely
foreign to her, "Please don't trouble yourself about me."

"Very well," replied Grace, in proud surprise. "Shall I tell Miss
Pierson that you are ill?"

"No," muttered Mildred.

Grace walked away, puzzled and self-accusing. "I hurt her feelings by
not asking her to dance," was the thought that sprang instantly to her
mind. Then she suddenly recollected that she had not yet found Ruth. A
little later she discovered her in earnest conversation with Gertrude
Wells at the extreme end of the room.

"Dance this with me, Ruth," called Grace, as she neared her friend. Ruth
glanced at her card. "I have this one free," she said. A moment later
they were gliding over the smooth floor to the inspiriting strains of a
popular two step. Long before the end of the dance they stoppe