events of that busy first day: Margaret Wakefield,
bursting with opinions about politics and woman's suffrage; pretty
Jessie Lynch, and the Williams sisters whose dark lustrous eyes seemed
to see beyond the outer crust of things. Last of all, after a discreet
interval, would come a soft, deprecating tap at the door, and Otoyo Sen,
most charming of little Japanese ladies, with a beaming, apologetic
smile, would glide into the room on her marshmallow soled slippers.

"Everybody's late," exclaimed Judy, unexpectedly breaking in on her
friend's preoccupation. "I do wish my trunk were unpacked. I can't bear
to be unsettled. It's the most disagreeable thing about the first day of
college."

"Why don't you go unpack it, then, lazybones?" asked Nance, a trifle
sternly. As much as she loved her care-free Judy, she never quite
approved of her.

"How little you understand my nature, Nance," answered Judy,
reproachfully.

"I know that people who pride themselves on having the artistic
temperament never like to unpack trunks or do any kind of so-called
menial work, for that matter. But there can be just as much art in
unpacking a trunk as in a painting a picture----"

"Ho, ho!" interrupted Judy, who loved these discussions with her
serious-minded friend. "How would you like to engage for all your life
in the immortal work of unpacking trunks?"

"I never said anything about doing it always--" broke in Nance, when the
argument was brought to a sudden end by the arrival of the other girls.

There was a great noise of talk and laughter while they draped
themselves about the room.

College girls in kimonos never sit in straight-backed chairs. They
usually curl themselves up on divans or in Morris chairs, or sit,
Turkish fashion, on cushions on the floor.

"Well, and what's the news?" they asked. Most of them had caught only
flying glimpses of each other during the day.

"Wait until I make my annual inspection," ordered Judy, carefully
examining the fourth finger of the left hand of every girl. "No rings or
marks of rings," she said at each inspection until she came to Jessie,
who was endeavoring to sit on her left hand while she pushed Judy away
with her right. "Now, Jessica, no concealments," cried Judy, "and from
your seven bosom friends! It's not fair. Are you actually wearing a
solitaire?"

"I assure you it's my mother's engagement ring," Jessie protested, but
Judy had extricated the pretty little hand on the fourth fi