little lonely as far as her friends were
concerned. Mrs. Gray had gone to New York City to spend Easter with the
Nesbits. Nora and Hippy had gone to visit Jessica and Reddy in their
Chicago home. Anne and David were in New York. Eleanor Savelli was in
Italy. Even Marian Barber, Eva Allen and Julia Crosby had married and
gone their separate ways. Of the Eight Originals Plus Two, and of their
old sorority, the Phi Sigma Tau, she was the only one left in Oakdale.
To be sure she had plenty of invitations to spend Easter with her chums
and her many friends, but it was a sacred obligation with her always to
be at home during the Easter holidays. She was quite content to do this,
and yet even her father's and mother's love could not quite still the
longing for the gay voices of those dear ones with whom she had kept
pace for so long.

There was one source of consolation, however, which during the first
days at home she had quite overlooked, and that source was none other
than Anna May and Elizabeth Angerell. The two little girls had by no
means overlooked the fact that their Miss Harlowe was "the very nicest
person in the whole world except papa and mamma," and proceeded to
monopolize her whenever the opportunity offered itself.

Grace went for long walks with them. She helped them dress their dolls,
and ran races and played games with them in their big sunny garden. She
initiated them into the mysteries of making fudge and penuchi, while
they obligingly taught her the ten different ways they knew of skipping
the rope, and how to make raffia baskets. They followed her about like
two adoring, persistent little shadows, until imbued with their carefree
spirit of childhood, Grace, in a measure, forgot her woes and joined in
their innocent fun with hearty good will.

"Really, Grace, I hardly know which is older, you or Anna May," smiled
her mother one afternoon as Grace came bounding into the living room
with, "Mother, do you know where my blue sweater is? Anna May and
Elizabeth and I are going for a walk as far as the old Omnibus House."

"It is hanging in that closet off the sewing room," returned her mother.

"Thank you." Dropping a hasty kiss on her mother's cheek, Grace was off.

Mrs. Harlowe watched her go down the walk, holding a hand of each little
girl, with wistful eyes. Grace had not been at home three days before
her mother divined that all was not well with her beloved daughter. Yet
to ask questions was not her w