ed Elfreda.

"I'm surprised," laughed Grace; then she added slowly, "I've known for a
long time that Mr. Southard was in love with Miriam. Anne discovered it
at commencement, too. I hope Miriam _does_ love him. Somehow they seem
so perfectly suited to each other. I never could quite fancy she and
Arnold Evans as being in love."

"It looks as though you'd soon be the only unengaged member of the
Originals," remarked Elfreda innocently.

Grace's face clouded. Elfreda had touched upon a sore subject. Just
before leaving Oakdale on her visit to Elfreda she had seen Tom. He had
not renewed his old plea, but Grace knew that he was still waiting and
hoping for the words that would make him happy.

"Elfreda," her voice trembled a little, "you know, I think, that Tom
wishes me to marry him. I'm sorry, but I can't. I just can't. I suppose
I'll be the odd member of the feminine half of the Originals, but I
can't help it. My work still means more to me than life with Tom, and
I'm never going to give it up. So there."

Elfreda nodded. Her nod expressed more than words, but secretly she had
a curious presentiment that Grace would one day wake up to the fact that
she had make a mistake. Still there was no use in telling her so. It
might make her still more stubborn in her resolve. Elfreda greatly
admired Tom, and, with her usually quick perception, had estimated him
at his true worth. "He's worthy of her, and she's worthy of him," was
her mental summing up, "and it strikes me that '_never_' is a pretty
long time. Whether she can shut love out of her life forever, just for
the sake of her work, is a problem that nobody but Grace Harlowe can
solve."

CHAPTER IV

MILESTONES

"Sh-h-h! No giggles. If you don't creep along as still as mice she'll
hear you," warned a sibilant whisper.

Five young women, headed by Emma Dean, smoothed the laughter from their
faces and stole, cat-like, up the green lawn to the wide veranda at the
rear of Harlowe House. One by one they noiselessly mounted the steps.
Emma, finger on her lips, cast a comical glance at the maid, who
tittered faintly; then the stealthy procession crept down the hall in
the direction of Grace Harlowe's little office. There was an instant's
silent rallying of forces of which the young woman at the desk, who sat
writing busily, was totally unconscious, then, of a sudden, she heard a
ringing call of "Three ch