y can see it. To change the subject, we
haven't been upstairs yet."

"Come on, then."

"I think I'll wait for you on the veranda, children," said Mrs. Gray.
"Don't stay upstairs too long. I should like to go back to Mrs.
Elwood's, telephone for a taxicab, and make a call upon Dr. Morton this
morning."

"We'll hurry," promised Grace, as they ascended the open staircase which
led to the second floor. "These are to be my quarters," she announced,
opening a door at the end of the hall on the left side of the stairs.
"This left wing was designed especially for me. The right wing has the
same amount of space, but it is divided into two bedrooms. But the left
has a sitting-room and bedroom, with a bathroom between the two. It
seems selfish in me to have so much room, but Mrs. Gray insists that I
need it and wishes me to be thoroughly comfortable. She wanted me to
have circassian walnut bedroom furniture, but I chose oak. I don't wish
my rooms to suggest luxury. It wouldn't seem in touch with the spirit of
my undertaking."

Elfreda regarded Grace with loving admiration. "You're the squarest,
fairest girl I ever knew or even expect to know, Grace," was her
tribute. "And you deserve the best that the Harlowe House girls can give
you."

CHAPTER III

AN UNEXPECTED CALLER

"'And if I do say it as shouldn't,' this room is a credit to our college
and our own sweet native land," proclaimed Elfreda, as she viewed with
critical eyes the long cheerful living-room, to which she and Grace had
just put the final touches. The morning sunshine of a perfect midsummer
day poured in at the windows flooding the scene with dazzling light, as
though smiling its approval of the pretty room. The walls and ceilings
were papered in cream color with a running border of green leaves. The
floor rug was in two shades of green, and the window draperies were in
green and white. The furniture was in mission oak, but there were
several comfortable arm chairs and willow rockers scattered about the
room. A long library table took up considerable space at one end of the
room, and conveniently near it were rows of book shelves, lined with
special books required by the Overton curriculum of study, which, in
price, were out of reach of the more impecunious students, and were in
such constant demand at the library that their temporary possession
often meant weeks of waiting.

There was a piano, of course, but the crowning feature of the room,
howev