you that Hippy and Nora
were with us. They gave us a complete surprise." Grace related further
details of her visit, walking about the room and putting away her
personal effects as she talked.

As usual Emma had made chocolate and arranged on the center table a
tempting little midnight luncheon for the traveler. It was not long
until Grace had donned a pretty pale blue negligee and the two friends
were seated opposite each other enjoying the spread.

"Now I've told you all my news, what about yours?" asked Grace at last.

"I've only one tale to tell," responded Emma dryly, "and that is not a
pleasant one. The news of Miss Brent's sale has traveled about the
campus like wildfire. We've had a perfect stream of girls coming here.
They have conceived the fond idea that Harlowe House is a headquarters
for second-hand clothing. I have labored with them to convince them that
such is not the case, but still they yearn for the Brent finery.
Judging from what I hear, it must have been 'some' wardrobe. Pardon my
lapse into slang, O, Overton. A number of the teachers have commented on
the affair. I've been asked several pointed questions."

"How dreadful!" broke in Grace, her face clouding. "Still I was almost
sure something would come of it. That was the reason I forbade Miss
Brent to hold a sale when first she proposed it to me. Do you think that
Miss Wilder and--Miss Wharton know it?" Grace hesitated before
pronouncing the latter's name.

"Miss Wilder doesn't know, because she left for California last
Saturday."

A cry of surprise and disappointment broke from Grace. "Miss Wilder
gone, and I didn't say good-bye to her! Why did she leave so suddenly,
Emma? She expected to be at Overton for another week, at least."

"Some friends of hers were going to the Pacific Coast in their private
car, and knowing that she was ordered west for her health, they wrote
and invited her to join them. They had arranged to leave New York City
this morning, so she left Overton for New York yesterday morning. I am
sure she wrote you. One of the letters that came for you while you were
gone is addressed in her handwriting."

Emma reached down, opened the drawer of the table at which they were
sitting, and drew out a pile of letters. "Here's your mail, Gracious. Go
ahead and read it while I clear up the ghastly remains of the spread."

"All right, I will." Grace went rapidly over the pile of envelopes which
bore various postmarks. The majority