ng was done on the run that day. Groups of girls could be seen
tearing from one building to another. They dashed through corridors like
wild ponies and rushed up and down stairs as if the foul fiends were
chasing them.

The weather was like a famous invalid rapidly sinking. They frequently
took his temperature and cried to one another:

"It's gone down two degrees."

"The bulletin says it will be fifteen by night."

"Oh," groaned Molly, thinking of her friends at that dismal O'Reilly's.

Having half an hour to spare between classes, she went to the library
where she met Nance.

"There are some letters for you, Molly. They came by the late mail. I
saw them in the hall," Nance informed her.

But Molly was not deeply interested in letters that morning.

"Never mind mail," she said. "I can only think of two things. How cold I
am this minute, and how uncomfortable you and Judy are going to be for
my sake."

"Don't think about it, Molly, dear," said Nance. "We'll soon get
adjusted at O'Reilly's with you, and we never would at Queen's without
you."

Molly could not find her mail when she returned to Queen's for lunch,
which had been prepared with much difficulty on several chafing dishes
and a small charcoal brazier by Mrs. Markham and the maid. Nobody seemed
to know anything about letters in the upset and half-frozen household,
until it was finally discovered that Mr. Murphy had taken Molly's mail
down to O'Reilly's when he had moved the trunks.

Having disposed of indifferently warmed canned soup and creamed boned
chicken that was chilled to its heart, the three friends went down to
the village. They looked at the rooms; they stood gazing pensively at
their trunks; it seemed too cold to make the physical effort to unpack
their clothes. Again the fugitive letters had escaped Molly. Mr. Murphy,
finding she was not to come down until afternoon had kept them in his
pocket and was at that moment at the station awaiting the three fifteen
train.

"It's too cold to follow him," said Molly, never dreaming that Mr.
Murphy was carrying about with him a letter which was to change the
whole tenor of her life. "I'm so homesick," she exclaimed, "let's go
back to Queen's for awhile."

And back they hastened. Somehow they didn't know what to do with
themselves in their new quarters. It seemed unnatural to sit down and
chat in those strange rooms.

As they neared the avenue they noticed groups of girls ahead of them,
all ru