ooked up,
Roberta."

"She's one too many for us, isn't she?" said Katherine, as Mary went
gaily off, followed by the devoted Roberta, declaring in loud tones that
the Mary-bird club was dissolved.

"I wish things that go wrong didn't bother me any more than they do
her," said Betty wistfully.

"Cheer up," urged Katherine, giving her a bearish hug. "You'll win in
the golf again to-morrow, and everything will come out all right in the
end."

"Everything? What do you mean?" inquired Betty sharply.

"Why, singles and doubles--twosomes and foursomes you call them, don't
you? They'll all come out right."

A moment later Katherine burst in upon her long-suffering roommate with
a vehemence that made every cup on the tea-table rattle. "I almost let
her know what we thought," she said, "but I guess I smoothed it over. Do
you suppose Eleanor Watson isn't going to make up with her at all?"

CHAPTER XVIII

INTO PARADISE--AND OUT

It was a glorious summer twilight. The air was sweet with the odor of
lilacs and honeysuckle. One by one the stars shone softly out in the
velvet sky, across which troops of swallows swooped and darted,
twittering softly on the wing. Near the western horizon the golden glow
of sunset still lingered. It was a night for poets to sing of, a night
to revel in and to remember; but it was assuredly not a night for study.
Gaslight heated one's room to the boiling point. Closed windows meant
suffocation; open ones--since there are no screens in the Harding
boarding house--let in troops of fluttering moths and burly June-bugs.

"And the moral of that is, work while it is yet light," proclaimed Mary
Brooks, ringing her bicycle bell suggestively.

There was a sudden commotion on the piazza and then Betty's clear voice
rose above the tumult. "We won it, one up! Isn't that fine? Oh no, not
the singles; we go on with them to-morrow, but I can't possibly win. Oh,
I'm so hot!"

Eleanor Watson smiled grimly as these speeches floated up to her from
below. She had been lounging all the breathless afternoon, trying vainly
to get rid of a headache; and the next day's lessons were still to be
learned.

"Ouch, how I hate June-bugs," she muttered, stopping for the fifth time
in as many minutes to drive out a buzzing intruder. She had just gotten
one out when another flew straight at her unperceived and tangled
himself in her hair. That was the limit of endurance. With one swift
movement Eleanor turned off