quartette entered, but they passed
her on their way upstairs without speaking and she finally went to her
room wishing, regretfully, that she had been less ready to quarrel with
the girls who bade fair to lead their class both in scholarship and
popularity. It was fully a week afterward when a thoroughly humbled and
repentant Virginia, after making sure that Anne was out, knocked one
afternoon at Grace's door.

"How do you do, Miss Gaines," said Grace civilly, but without warmth.
"Won't you come in?"

Virginia entered, but refused the chair Grace offered her. "No, thank
you, I'll stand," she replied. Then in a halting fashion she said: "Miss
Harlowe, I--am--awfully sorry for--for being so hateful all this year."
She stopped, biting her lip, which quivered suspiciously.

Grace stared at her caller in amazement. Could it be possible that
insolent Virginia Gaines was meekly apologizing to her. Then,
thoughtful of the other girl's feelings, she smiled and stretched out
her hand: "Don't say anything further about it, Miss Gaines. I hope we
shall be friends. One can't have too many, you know, and college is the
best place in the world for us to find ourselves. Come in to-night and
have tea and cakes with us after lessons. That is the highest proof of
hospitality I can offer at present."

"I will," promised Virginia. Then impulsively she caught one of Grace's
hands in hers. "You're the dearest girl," she said, "and I'll try to be
worthy of your friendship. Please tell the girls I'm sorry. I'll tell
them myself to-night." With that she fairly ran from the room, and going
to her own shed tears of real contrition. Later, it took all Grace's
reasoning powers to put Elfreda in a state of mind that verged even
slightly on charitable, but after much coaxing she promised to behave
with becoming graciousness toward Virginia.

Over the tea and cakes the clouds gradually dispersed, and when Virginia
went to her room that night, after declaring that she had had a
perfectly lovely time, Grace took from her writing case the note that
Miriam had found, and tore it into small pieces. She needed no evidence
against Virginia.

CHAPTER XXIV

SAYING GOOD-BYE TO THEIR FRESHMAN YEAR

The few intervening days that lay between commencement and home were
filled with plenty of pleasant excitement. There were calls to make,
farewell spreads and merry-makings to attend, and momentous questions
concerning what to leave behind and what to