there is
something."

Margaret felt sorry for the Principal who had striven so hard for the
honor of Wellington in the face of so many discouragements.

"It was a thoroughly silly and undignified act," she remarked later to
the Queen's crowd, telling them of the interview, "to break up a
time-honored custom like the Senior Ramble by stealing all the food; and
I'm sorry for the girl who did it if she ever gets caught."

An effort had been made to find out if there had been any sophomore
spreads the night of the Ramble with the stolen banquet, but these young
women were either very wily or very innocent, for nothing was found
against them.

In the meantime, things went on happily enough at Wellington and there
were no more escapades to wrinkle the President's brow or enrage the
girls who happened to be the victims. Molly's life was so filled with
work and interests that she had little leisure for reflection, and
about this time there came to her an unsolicited and entirely unexpected
honor. She was elected sub-editor of the Wellington _Commune_, the
fortnightly review of college news and college writings. Edith Williams,
beyond a doubt the most literary girl in college, was editor-in-chief,
Caroline Brinton was business manager, and there was besides a staff of
six girls from other classes who gathered news and ran their various
departments.

"I can't imagine why they chose me," Molly exclaimed one afternoon to
Edith, when the two girls were closeted in the _Commune_ office.

"For your literary discrimination," answered Edith.

"But I think my themes are dreadfully crude and forced. I can't help
feeling self-conscious when I write."

"That's because you try too hard," answered Edith, who always spoke the
brutal truth regarding the literary efforts of her friends. "Let your
thoughts flow easily, lightly," she added, making a flowing gesture with
her pencil to illustrate the gentle trickling of ideas from an
overcharged brain.

Molly laughed.

"You remind me of Professor Green. 'Be simple,' was his advice--as if an
amateur can be simple."

Edith, in the act of writing an editorial, smiled enigmatically.

"It's about as hard as getting a cheap dressmaker to make simple
clothes," she said. "Amateurs always want to put in ruffles and
puffles."

The two girls were seated at the editorial desk. There was a pile of
manuscript in front of Molly: themes recommended by Miss Pomeroy for
publication and contributed b