d to rest
and talk. "I suppose we ought to devote ourselves strictly to the
freshmen," said Grace. "They all appear to be dancing, though. Where
have you been keeping yourself, Ruth?"

"I've been busy," replied Ruth evasively.

"Will you be too busy to have dinner with us at Vinton's to-morrow
night?" persisted Grace.

"No-o-o," said Ruth slowly. "At what time?"

"Half-past six," returned Grace. "We'll meet you there. I must leave you
now to look after Miss Evans. I brought her here to-night."

It was late when the notes of the last waltz sounded, and still later
when the gay participants left the gymnasium in twos, threes and little
crowds trooping down the broad stone steps to where they were to take
their carriages. The rain was now falling heavily, and to walk even
across the campus was out of the question. Every public automobile and
carriage in Overton had been pressed into service, and many who had
braved the fine rain early in the evening and walked were obliged to
negotiate with the drivers for a return of their vehicles. The carriages
to Wayne Hall carried six girls instead of four, and the merry
conversation that was kept up during the short drive showed plainly that
the evening had been a success. Even the Anarchist indulged in an
occasional stiff remark with a view toward being gracious. When Elfreda
humorously bowed her to her door and wished her an elaborate good night,
an actual gleam of fun appeared in her stormy eyes, and forgetting her
dignity she replied almost cordially that she had enjoyed her evening.

"I am surprised to think she did after the way she made remarks about
people," commented Elfreda to Miriam, who was busily engaged in
unhooking the stout girl's gown and listening in amusement to Elfreda's
recital. "She has as much tact as a guinea hen. You know how tactful
they are?"

In the meantime Anne and Grace were discussing the night's festivity in
their own room. Grace had slipped into a kimono and stood brushing her
long hair before the mirror. Suddenly she paused, her brush suspended in
the air. "Anne," she said so abruptly that Anne looked at her in
surprise, "did you notice anything peculiar about Miss Taylor? You were
her escort, you know."

"No," responded Anne, knitting her brows in an effort to remember. "I
can't say that I noticed anything."

"Then I am right," decided Grace. "She is angry with me because in some
way I missed asking her to dance."

"She said nothing to