of his forehead. He's an
Arabian, and Father paid an extravagant price for him. He shakes hands
and does ever so many tricks that I taught him. When you go home with
me, you shall see him."

"I'd love to have a riding horse," confessed Grace, "but Father can't
afford it. I've never asked him, but I know he can't. We have no car
either."

"Make me a visit and you can ride Elixir every day," bribed Mabel.

"I'd love that!" exclaimed Grace fervently as she slipped into her coat
and settled her hat firmly on her fluffy hair. "Good night, Mabel. Come
and see me soon. Don't forget our Saturday walk."

"I'll go to the door with you," announced Mabel. "No, I won't forget our
walk. I'll tell Frances about it to-morrow, before she has a chance to
make any other plans. She is a popular young person, and elusive in the
matter of dates."

"There are others," retorted Grace, with a significant glance at her
friend.

"So there are," agreed Mabel innocently.

On the way home Grace wondered if there were any way in which she might
help Laura Atkins. True to her promise, she went at once to interview
Elfreda on the subject of the eccentric freshman. She found Miriam and
the stout girl busily engaged in trying to put together a puzzle that
Elfreda had unearthed in the toy department of one of the Overton stores
that afternoon. Puzzles were the delight of Elfreda's heart. But, once
put together, they immediately ceased to be of interest.

"This is a wonder!" she exclaimed at sight of Grace. "It is worth
having. Neither Miriam nor I can put it together."

"I have a harder one for you to tackle," smiled Grace. Then she
recounted her conversation with Mabel Ashe.

"You have altogether too much faith in my powers of persuasion,"
grumbled Elfreda, secretly pleased, nevertheless.

"But that is much better than if we had no faith at all," reminded
Grace.

CHAPTER VIII

THE INVITATION

The next morning Grace made a startling discovery. It was directly after
breakfast that she made it. Having fifteen minutes to spare before going
to her first recitation, she decided to reread her theme. What one wrote
always read differently after one had slept over it. What seemed clever
at night might be very commonplace when read in the cold light of the
morning. Grace reached for the book in which she had placed her theme.
It was not there. Going down on her knees, she looked first under the
table, then under the chiffonier, then turn