Gathered about the library table were six girls, deep in
conversation. One of them glanced toward the hall at the sound of the
opening door.

"Oh, Miss Harlowe," she called, "You are the very person we have been
wishing for." It was Cecil Ferris who spoke. Nettie Weyburn, Louise
Sampson, Mary Reynolds, Evelyn Ward and Hilda Moore made up the rest of
the sextette. "We are wondering if it wouldn't be a good plan to give
our grand revue directly after the Easter vacation. It will be our last
entertainment this year, because after Easter the weather begins to grow
warm and the girls like to be outdoors. If you would help us plan it,
then those of us who live here, and are going to take part in it, can be
studying and rehearsing during the vacation. Of course, Evelyn won't be
with us, but she will help us before she goes to New York. When she
comes back she can give us the finishing touches. Here is the programme
as far as we have planned it. We are awfully short of features."

Cecil handed Grace a sheet of paper on which were jotted several items.
There was a sketch written by Mary Reynolds, "The Freshman on the Top
Floor," a pathetic little story of a lonely freshman. Gertrude Earle, a
demure, dreamy-eyed girl, the daughter of a musician, was down for a
piano solo. There was to be a sextette, a chorus and a troupe of dancing
girls. Kathleen West had written a clever little playlet "In the Days of
Shakespeare," and Hilda Moore, who could do all sorts of queer folk
dances, was to busy her light feet in a series of quick change costume
dances, while Amy Devery was to give an imitation of a funny
motion-picture comedian who had made the whole country laugh at his
antics.

"How would you like some imitations and baby songs?" asked Grace,
forgetting for the moment the shadow that hung over her. "I have two
friends who would be delighted to help you."

"How lovely!" cried Louise Sampson. "Now if only we had some one who
could sing serious songs exceptionally well."

"Miss Brent has a wonderful voice," said Evelyn rather reluctantly.

"Then we must ask her to sing," decided Louise. "You ask her to-night,
Evelyn."

But Evelyn shook her head. "I'd rather you would ask her, Louise. Won't
you, please?"

"All right, I will," said Louise good-naturedly, who had no idea of the
strained relations existing between the two girls, and consequently
thought nothing of Evelyn's request.

"Much as I regret tearing myself away from thi