le that came out last Sunday--'Anti's to the
front, by a Wife and Mother.' That was me. I thought I gave a pretty
fair line of argument."

"Jimmie, you are the limit," exclaimed Miss Slammer. Then she paused and
began to think quickly. Suppose Jimmy did go up to Wellington with a
letter of introduction from her, and take her place? Well, why not? She
was too ill to come, and had sent the well-known young writer on this
vital subject. She would be keeping her engagement in a way, and Jimmy
would be getting a holiday and perhaps material for another story at the
same time. The editor's consent was gained. "See if you can't get
something about basket ball," he had ordered, and Jimmy dashed out of
the office, the railroad ticket contributed by Wellington in one pocket
and Miss Slammer's note in the other.

Miss Slammer's nature was a casual one. Life had been so hard with her
that she had long since grown callous under the blows of fate and grimly
indifferent to other people's feelings. Somewhere she had heard that
Jimmy Lufton was a born orator. At any rate, she thought he could carry
off the adventure and her conscience was easy.

At eight o'clock the next morning when the night train from New York
pulled into Wellington station, a crowd of well-dressed young women on
the platform gazed at the door of the Pullman car with expectant eyes.
Judy Kean in a black velvet suit and a big picture hat headed the
delegation. Only two passengers descended from the sleeper: a
middle-aged, worn-looking woman in shabby black and a young man whose
alert brown eyes took in at once the crowd of college girls and Judy,
resplendent in velvet and plumes.

"Miss Slammer?" began Judy, intercepting the woman passenger who was
looking up and down the platform, somewhat bewildered.

"No, no, that is not my name. I am looking for Miss Windsor," answered
the woman nervously.

"Oh," said Judy, rather surprised. "You will find her at her rooms in
the Beta Phi House. Take the 'bus up. It's quite a walk."

The woman bowed and hurried over to the 'bus just as the young man with
the alert brown eyes came up, hat in hand. Judy noticed at once that his
head was large and rather distinguished in outline and that his
close-cropped black hair had a tendency to curl.

"You were looking for Miss Slammer?" he asked, speaking to Judy, whose
face, as the train receded, showed mingled feelings of disappointment
and anger.

"Oh, yes," she replied, startled