ieve that she was at that minute having the best time of her life.

"I have been expecting you," she cried. "I was hoping you would come
to-day so that we could get to housekeeping to-morrow, for lessons begin
the next day."

She led the way into the hall. Here she stopped to clap her hands in order
to call Jimmy's attention. "Here, Jimmy, take this lady's checks and bring
her trunks up to No. 10. If they are there before we get back from dinner,
Jimmy, there'll be a piece of cake for you."

Jimmy grinned and rolled his eyes, then swung himself down the hall in
search of the baggage.

Miss Wilson never ceased her chatter as they entered the side hallway and
mounted the stairs.

"The students must not use the main stairway, except during commencement
week, under penalty of death," she explained. "That's reserved for the Fac
and other Lord-Highs. Here's our room--quite close to the stairway. A
nuisance, you'll find it. Every girl on her way up or down will drop in to
see us. It won't be because we're popular, but one can't help wanting to
rest after climbing stairs, and our chairs are particularly easy." Her
voice, as she talked, had a ring of laughter in it which made Elizabeth
feel, for the moment, that having your friends love you for your chairs
alone was the greatest fun in the world.

She led the way into their apartment. There was a big sitting-room with
wide windows overlooking the campus; an open grate with log and gas
fixtures, ready for the cooler days of autumn, filled the space between
the two windows. From this room a door led to a bedroom devoid of all
furnishing except the simple essentials of a sleeping-place.

Miss Wilson drew forward a chair. "Sit here a moment to rest. Let me put
your wraps away. I'll make a guest of you to-day. It isn't long until
dinner-time. We are expected to change our dresses. But Miss Morgan will
excuse you to-day as you have just arrived. I think you will like the
girls here."

She chatted on while Elizabeth rested and prepared for dinner. She looked
with admiration upon Elizabeth's linen frock and long braid of smooth
hair. "I like the way you braid your mane," she laughed, giving a toss of
her own. "It's the style of hair I've always coveted. A siege of fever a
year ago is responsible for my new crop, short and curly. I look forward
to the time when I, too, can appear with dignity and a coil of hair about
my head."

"Do you think you could be dignified then?" asked