ling faces of her friends caused her to stop short
and regard them suspiciously. "What's the matter?" she said in an
offended tone.

Grace ran over and slipped her arm about the stout girl's shoulders.
"You are the one who sent Ruth her lovely clothes last Christmas. Don't
try to deny it. I was sure of it then."

"Oh, see here," expostulated Elfreda, jerking herself away, her face
crimson. "I--you--"

"Confess," threatened Miriam, seizing the little brass tea kettle and
brandishing it over Elfreda's head.

"I won't," defied Elfreda, laughing a little in spite of her efforts to
appear offended.

"One, two," counted Miriam, grasping the kettle firmly.

"All right, I did," confessed Elfreda nonchalantly. "What are you going
to do about it?"

"Present you with your Christmas gifts now," smiled Miriam. "You
wouldn't look at us last Christmas, so we've been saving our gifts ever
since. Wait a minute, girls, until I go for mine."

As she darted from the room, Grace said softly: "We hoped that you would
understand about Thanksgiving and that everything would be all right by
Christmas, so we planned our little remembrances for you just the same.
Then, when--when we didn't see you before going home for the holidays,
Anne suggested that we put them away, because we all hoped that you'd be
friends with us again some day." Rummaging in the tray of her trunk she
produced a long, flat package which she offered to Elfreda. Anne, who,
at Grace's first words, had stepped to the chiffonier, took out a
beribboned bundle, and stood holding it toward the stout girl. Another
moment and Miriam had returned bearing her offering. "I wish you a merry
June," declared Miriam with an infectious giggle that was echoed by the
others. Then Elfreda opened the package from Miriam, which contained a
Japanese silk kimono similar to one of her own that her roommate had
greatly admired. Grace's package contained a pair of long white gloves,
and Anne had remembered her with a book she had once heard the stout
girl express a desire to own.

"You had no business to do it," muttered Elfreda. Then gathering up her
presents she made a dash for the door and with a muffled, "I'll be back
soon," was gone. It was several minutes before she reappeared with red
eyes, but smiling lips. Then a long talk ensued, during which time the
art of trunk-packing languished. It was renewed with vigor that evening
and continued spasmodically for the next two days. In the