man of English
Literature, he is veree ill. You have not heard such badlee news? Miss
Walker, she will announce nothing of jubilee while this poor gentleman
lies in his bed so veree, greatlee ill."

"Why, Otoyo," cried Molly, her voice rising above the excited chorus,
"is it really true? You mean dangerously ill? What is the matter with
him?"

"He has been two weeks in the infirmaree with a great fever."

"You mean typhoid?"

Otoyo nodded. It was a new name to her. She had not had much to do with
illness during her two years in America, but she remembered the dread
name of typhoid. It had a sad association to her, for she had been
passing the infirmary at the very moment when a black, sinister looking
ambulance had brought Professor Edwin Green from his rooms to the
hospital.

Molly relapsed into silence. Somehow, the joy of reunion had been
spoiled and she tasted the bitterness of dark forebodings. It came to
her with unexpected vividness that Wellington would not be the same
without the Professor of English Literature, whose kind assistance and
advice had meant so much to her. Only a little while ago she had made a
secret resolution to seek him in his office on the morrow for counsel on
a very vital question. In plain words: how to avoid being a school
teacher. And now this brilliant and learned man, by far the brightest
star in the Wellington faculty, was dangerously ill. Molly felt suddenly
the cold clutch of disappointment.

The other girls were sorry but not really shaken or unnerved by the
news.

"The jubilee must be to celebrate the fiftieth birthday of the new
Wellington--" began Margaret, after an interval of silence. "Do you
suppose--" she began again and then broke off.

"Suppose what?" asked the inquisitive Judy.

"Oh, nothing. It would seem rather unfeeling to put in words what I had
in my mind. I think I'll leave it unsaid."

There was a silence and again came that cold clutch at Molly's heart.
She felt pretty certain that Margaret had started to say:

"Do you suppose, if Professor Green dies, it will interfere with the
jubilee?"

"If there is a jubilee," suddenly burst out Judy, who had been lying
quite still with her eyes closed, "if they do give it, we shall be at
the head and front of it being seniors, and I already have a wonderful
suggestion to make. Would it not be splendid to have an old English
pageant? The whole college could take part in it. Think of the beautiful
costumes; the