"I want you to do something for me, Ethel." Jane had grown suddenly serious. "Will you go to Alicia and invite her to the party? I'd rather not go myself. You understand why. But it's really necessary to invite her. She might feel hurt if she were left out. I wouldn't have that happen for worlds. Not after what she did for me about basket-ball. She was dining out the night we had the spread so I couldn't invite her to that. I told her so afterward for fear she might have been offended."

"Surely I'll tell her," nodded Ethel. "I don't think she's in now, though. I met her going down the walk as I came up it. She said she had to go to the library for a book she needed. I imagine she'll be back soon."

"Be sure to tell her," Jane impressed upon Ethel. "Thank you ever so much. Tell Adrienne, too. Don't dress up. It's a strictly informal party. Meet me in the living-room at six."

With this Jane departed to go on to Dorothy's room. Passing the door of Alicia's room she noted that it was now closed. As Alicia was out she guessed that Elsie Noble was in. She was now not sorry that she had refrained from approaching it. Undoubtedly she would have met with an unpleasant reception.

Finding her other friends at home, Jane quickly made the rounds and hurried back to her own room.

Judith appeared soon afterward with the information that Christine and Barbara had joyfully accepted and would be on hand at the Inn.

When at six o'clock the party from the Hall gathered in the living-room, first glance about showed her that Alicia was missing.

Going over to where Ethel stood, Jane anxiously asked: "Did you see Alicia, Ethel?"

"Yes. She isn't coming. She said to tell you it was impossible for her to accept. I went to her room a few minutes after you left. I knocked until I was tired but no one answered. So I went back to my room. After a while I tried again and while I was standing at her door she came down the hall with Miss Noble. I asked her to come into my room a minute and told her."

"Funny she didn't give you any reason why she couldn't come," pondered Jane with drawn brows.

"She looked as though she'd been crying," returned Ethel. "I thought maybe she'd had bad news or something so I didn't urge her. She wasn't a bit snippy. She just looked white and a little bit sad."

"I wonder if I ought to run up and see her."

Jane stared at Ethel, her eyes fall of active concern.

"Better wait until to-morrow," advised Ethel. "Whatever's the matter with her, she may feel like being alone. You know how it is sometimes with one."

"Yes, I know."

Jane knew only too well how it felt to be sought out by even her friends when occasional black moods descended upon her.

"We may as well start," she said slowly. "As hostess I mustn't neglect my guests. I'll surely make it a point to see Alicia in the morning."

Nevertheless as the bevy of light-hearted diners left Madison Hall and strolled bare-headed in the sunset toward Rutherford Inn, a vague uneasiness took hold of Jane. She regretted that she had not gone upstairs to see Alicia. Nor did it leave her until after she had reached the Inn, where for the time being the lively chatter of her companions served to drive it from her mind.



CHAPTER XI

REJECTED CAVALIERS

One glaring result of Jane's dinner party was the ignoring of the ten-thirty rule that night.

It was eight o'clock when the congenial diners finished an elaborate dessert and strolled gaily out of the Inn. The beauty of the night induced the will to loiter. Some one proposed a walk into Chesterford and a visit to a moving-picture theatre.

When they emerged from it it was half-past nine, thus necessitating a quick hike to the campus. Jane and Judith made port in their room at exactly twenty-five minutes past ten.

Visions of unprepared lessons looming up large, they decided that for once "lights out" should not be the order of things.

As a consequence of retiring at eleven-thirty, both overslept the next morning and dashed wildly off to chapel without breakfast.

Occupied from then on with classes, it was not until she had finished her last recitation of the morning and was on her way to Madison Hall that Jane remembered her resolve to see Alicia.

Determined to lose no more time in putting it into execution, she quickened her pace. Coming to the stone walk leading up to the steps of the Hall, Jane uttered a little cluck of satisfaction. She had spied Alicia seated in a rocker on the veranda, engaged in reading a letter.

"Oh, Alicia!" she called as she reached the foot of the steps. "You're the very person I most want to see!"

Sound of Jane's voice caused Alicia to glance up in startled fashion. She had been faintly smiling over her letter when first Jane glimpsed her. Now her pale face underwent a swift, ominous change. She hastily rose.

"I didn't wish to see you," she said stiffly, and marched into the house.

Jane's primary impulse was to follow her and demand an explanation. The rebuff, however, had stirred again into life the old, rebellious pride which had formerly caused her so much unhappiness.

For a moment she stood still, hands clenched, cheeks flaming with mortification. Then with a bitter smile she walked slowly up the steps and into the house. After that affront Alicia would wait a long time before she, Jane Allen, would seek an explanation.

"Well, it has come," she said sullenly, as she entered her room where Judith sat at the dressing table, recoiling her long brown hair.

"What's come? By 'it' do you mean yourself?"

Judith turned in her chair with a boyish grin.

"No," Jane answered shortly. "Alicia Reynolds has gone back to her old chums."

"You don't mean it!"

Judith's hands dropped from her hair. In her surprise she let go of half a dozen hair pins she had been holding in one hand.

"Now see what you made me do," she laughingly accused. "Get down and help me pick them up."

"Oh, bother your old hairpins!" exclaimed Jane savagely. "I'm awfully upset about this, Judy. I felt last night as if I should have gone to Alicia and asked her what was the matter. This is some of Marian Seaton's work."

"Of course it is," calmly concurred Judith. "I haven't the least idea of what it's all about, but I agree with you just the same. I'll agree even harder when I do find out."

In a few jerky sentences Jane enlightened Judith.

"So that's the way the land lies," commented Judith. "Well, I'm not surprised. Take my word for it the ignoble Noble has had a hand in this. Just the same I don't believe Alicia has gone back to Marion Seaton. She's merely hurt over some yarn that's been told her. You'd better see her, Jane, and have it out with her."

"I won't do it." Jane shook an obstinate head. "Alicia ought to know better than listen to those girls. She knows how badly Marian Seaton behaved last year about basket-ball. She knows that Marian is untruthful and dishonorable. If she chooses to believe in a person of that stamp then she will have to abide by her choice."

It was the stubborn, embittered Jane Allen of earlier days at Wellington who now spoke.

"Only the other day I said to Dorothy that I didn't hate Marian Seaton any longer; that I felt only sorry for her. I said, too, that there must be some good in her if one could only find it. What a simpleton I was!"

The sarcastic smile that hovered about Jane's red lips, fully indicated her contempt of her own mistaken sentiments.

"Adrienne was right," she said after a brief pause. "She said she could never forget nor forgive an injury. I thought I could, but I can't. I mean I don't want to."

Her brows meeting in the old disfiguring scowl, Jane began pacing the room in what Judith had termed her "caged lion" fashion.

"Oh, forget it," counseled Judith, casting a worried glance at Jane's gloomy, storm-ridden face. "Don't let Marian Seaton's hatefulness upset you, Jane. You behaved like a brick about your room and that letter. This isn't half as bad as that mix-up was. You said your own self that you were going to ignore anything she tried to do against you. Now go ahead and keep your word. You've lots of good friends. You should worry."

"I haven't so many," Jane sharply contradicted. "I can count them on my fingers. I don't make friends as easily as you do, Judy."

"Just the same a lot of fuss was made over you last spring when you won the big game for our team," Judith sturdily reminded.

"That's not friendship. That was only admiration of the moment. The same girls who cheered me then would probably be just as ready to turn against me if they happened to feel like it," pointed out Jane skeptically. "No wonder I used to hate girls. Very few of them know what loyalty and friendship mean."

"You're hopeless." Judith made a gesture of resignation.

With a chuckle she added: "Why not challenge Marian Seaton to a duel and demolish her? Umbrellas would be splendid weapons. I have one with a lovely crooked handle. You could practice hooking it around my neck and when the fateful hour came you could bring the double-dyed villain to her knees with one swoop. Wouldn't that be nice?"

"You're a ridiculous girl, Judy Stearns."

Jane was forced to laugh a little at Judith's nonsense.

"You're a goose yourself to get all worked up over nothing," grinned Judith. "I can't say I blame you for throwing up the stupendous labor of hunting out Marian's good qualities. In my opinion 'There ain't no such animal.' But you're a very large-sized goose if you allow her to spoil your sophomore year for you."

"I don't intend she shall spoil it," Jane grimly assured. "I've stood a good deal from her without ever even once trying to strike back. I'm not sure that I've done right in allowing her to torment me as she has without ever asserting myself. There's a limit to forbearance. I may feel some day that I've reached it."

Judith smiled but said nothing. She had too high an opinion of Jane to believe that her proud-spirited roommate would ever descend to the level of her enemies. Given an opportunity for revenge, she believed that Jane would scorn to seize it.

"Have you invited your freshman yet?" she asked with sudden irrelevancy.

"No, I haven't had time to see any one of them yet," Jane answered.

"I asked Miss Lorimer, a cute little girl from Creston Hall, this morning after chapel, but she said she'd already been invited," informed Judith. "I must find out if the three eligible freshmen here have escorts yet. I suppose they have, with so many sophs in the house. The ignoble Noble's not an eligible."

The luncheon bell now interrupted the talk. It seemed to Jane as she took her place at table that spiteful triumph lurked in the sharp glance Elsie Noble flashed at her.

The conversation carried on by herself, Adrienne and Dorothy, centered almost entirely on the coming dance. From Adrienne, Jane learned that the Hall's three freshmen had already received invitations.

When the little French girl announced this, Jane again fancied that she read satisfaction in the sharp features of the quarrelsome freshman.

Though the latter had not addressed a word to her tablemates since her advent among them, she never missed a word they said. All three were well aware of this and it annoyed them not a little.

When just before dinner that evening Judith and Jane compared notes, it was to discover the same thing. Neither had been successful in securing a freshman to escort to the dance.

"I've asked five girls and every one of them turned me down," Judith ruefully acknowledged. "I thought I'd start early, but it seems others started earlier."

"I've asked two different girls, but both have escorts," frowned Jane. "I sha'n't ask any more. I thought Miss Harper, the second girl I asked, refused me rather coolly. I want to do my duty as a soph, but I won't stand being snubbed."

"Let's go and see what luck Ethel and Adrienne have had," proposed Judith.

Indifferently assenting, Jane accompanied Judith to her friends' room.

"Ah, do not ask me!" was Adrienne's disgusted outburst, "These freshmen are, of a truth, too popular. Four this day I have invited, but to no purpose."

"I'm going to take Miss Simmons, a Barclay Hall girl, to the dance," informed Ethel. "I asked her this morning and she accepted."

"Well, we seem out of luck," sighed Judith. "Do you know whether Mary and Norma have invited their freshmen?"

"Mary's going to take Miss Thomas, an Argyle Hall girl. Norma hasn't asked any one yet," was Ethel's prompt reply. "You girls just happened to ask the wrong ones, I guess. Try again to-morrow. There are more than enough freshies to go round this year."

After a little further talk, Jane and Judith went back to their room.

"What do you think about it?" Judith asked abruptly the instant they were behind their own door.

"I don't know. It's probably as Ethel says, 'a happen-so.' I can't think of any other reason, unless——"

Jane stopped and eyed Judith steadily.

"Unless some one in the freshman class has set the freshmen against us," quickly supplemented Judith.

"Yes, that's what I was thinking. It doesn't seem possible in so large a class. Still one girl can sometimes do a good deal of mischief."

"You mean Miss Noble?"

Judith was too much in earnest to use the derisive name she had given the disagreeable freshman.

"Yes," affirmed Jane. "If she helped to turn Alicia against me, she is quite capable of going further. So far as we know, you and Adrienne and I are the only sophs who've been turned down all around. Norma hasn't asked any one yet. Anyway, she's a junior."

"It looks rather queer, so queer that I'm going to make it my business to ask a few questions to-morrow. If there's really anything spiteful back of this, believe me, little Judy will find it out."



CHAPTER XII

NORMA'S "FIND"

The end of the next day was productive of no better results so far as Adrienne, Judith and Jane were concerned. Playing escort to their freshman sisters seemed not for them.

That evening a quintette of girls gathered in Ethel's room to discuss the peculiar situation. The quintette consisted of Ethel, Adrienne, Jane, Judith and Norma Bennett.

"There's something not right about it," Judith emphatically declared. "I've tried all day to get a clue to the mystery, but nothing doing. Nobody seems to want the pleasure of our company to the dance. What luck have you had, Norma?"

"Oh, I invited a little girl named Freda Marsh. She lives away off the campus," replied Norma. "She and three other girls have rented the second floor of a house and do their own cooking. They are all poor and very determined to put themselves through college."

"When did you discover this find?" Judith showed signs of active interest.

"Miss Marsh sits next to me at chapel," replied Norma. "After chapel this morning I asked her to go to the dance. She seemed awfully pleased. Then she told me where she lived and about herself and her chums. They all hail from a little town in the northern part of New York State."

"Wicked one, why did you not tell me this before?" playfully demanded Adrienne.

"I haven't had a chance, Imp, until now," smiled Norma. "This is the first time I've seen you to-day except at a distance."

"Ah, yes, it is true!" loudly sighed Adrienne. "This noon I came late from the laboratory after a most stupid chemistry lesson. Such hands! They were the sight! I feared I should wash them away before they became presentable. After the classes this afternoon I must of a necessity go to the library. So it was dinner time when I returned, and thus passed the time."

"You're forgiven."

Her blue eyes full of affection, Norma laid an arm over Adrienne's shoulder. She had every reason to adore the impulsive, warm-hearted little girl.

"Norma, do you suppose Miss Marsh's friends have received invitations to the dance?" Jane broke in eagerly.

"I don't know, Jane. I can find out for you in the morning at chapel."

"I wish you would. If they haven't, tell Miss Marsh that we would love to be their escorts and that we'll call on them to-morrow evening. How about it, girls?"

Jane turned questioning eyes from Judith to Adrienne.

"It's a fine idea!" glowed Judith. "I'm sorry I didn't know about them before. The freshman class is so large this year. I know only a few of the girls as yet."

"I am indeed well suited." Adrienne waved an approving hand. "Shall we not go to make the call soon after dinner to-morrow night?"

"Yes, as early as we can," acquiesced Judith. "That is, provided these three girls haven't been asked."

"It would be nice to go and see them anyway," declared Ethel. "We ought to get acquainted with them. Where do they live, Norma?"

"At 605 Bridge Street. It's almost a mile from here. So Miss Marsh said."

"To go back to what you said a while ago, Judy, what makes you think there is any special reason for the girls' refusing you and Adrienne and Jane as escorts?" questioned Norma concernedly.

"Jane and I just think so. That's all. We think some one's to blame for it."

"To blame. Who then is to blame?"

A swift flash of suspicion had leaped into Adrienne's big black eyes.

"Some one not far away, perhaps," replied Judith significantly. "That's the way it looks to me."

"But could it be? She is but one among many," reminded Adrienne.

She understood quite well whom Judith meant.

"She's the only freshman who would be interested in making trouble," argued Judith. "She has probably been egged on by others who are not freshmen."

"Still it's not fair to lay it to her when we don't know anything definite," remarked Ethel.

"I'm only supposing," explained Judith. "I'm not saying positively that I think she's guilty. I'm only saying that it seems probable."

"I doubt it." Ethel shook a dubious head.

"I may be wrong," Judith admitted. "Anyway, it won't matter, if these three girls accept our invitation. It will show the plotters, if there really are any, that they haven't bothered us a bit."

"I'm sorry, girls, but I'll have to go." Norma rose from her chair. "I haven't looked at my books yet and I must study to-night."

"You're not the only one," cheerfully commented Judith, getting to her feet. "Come on, Jane. We have our own troubles in the study line."

With this the talking-bee broke up, Norma promising faithfully to be sure to deliver next morning the message intrusted to her.

Directly after dinner the following evening the five friends set out for 605 Bridge Street. Greatly to the delight of the three most interested parties, Norma had given out the pleasant news that the trio of girls they were to call upon were without special invitations to the coming dance.

The beauty of the soft autumn night made walking a pleasure. Five abreast, the callers strolled through the twilight, making the still air ring with their fresh voices and light, happy laughter.

The house where the four freshmen lived was an unpretentious dwelling, built of wood and painted a dull gray. A straggling bit of uneven lawn in front by no means added to its appearance. Even in the concealing twilight it had a neglected look. It was in glaring contrast to stately Madison Hall with its green, close-clipped lawns and wide verandas.

"What cheerlessness!" exclaimed Adrienne under her breath.

Grouped about the door, Norma rang the bell. A tired-eyed, middle-aged woman answered it. Yes, Miss Marsh was in, she declared listlessly.

A clear, pleasant voice from above stairs affirmed that information. Next instant a sweet-faced, brown-eyed girl had reached the landing and was greeting her callers with a pretty cordiality that was infinitely pleasing.

"Do come upstairs to our house," she invited. "It's a very unpretentious place, but home-like, we think."

Norma introducing her friends to Miss Marsh, the five girls followed their hostess up the narrow stairway and were ushered into a good-sized living-room. A rag rug covered a floor, stained dark at the edges. An old-fashioned library table, a quaint walnut desk with many pigeon holes, a horse-hair covered settee and a few nondescript, but comfortable-looking chairs completed the furniture.

On the table, strewn with books, a reading lamp gave forth a mellow light. The walls, papered in tan with a deep brown border, were dotted with passe-partouted prints, both in color and black and white. The whole effect, though homely, was that of a room which might indeed be called a living room.

"Please help yourselves to seats," hospitably urged their winsome hostess. "Excuse me for a moment while I call the girls. They are just finishing the washing of the supper dishes and getting things in shape for breakfast. We get everything ready the night before so as not to be late in the morning," she explained. Then, with a smiling nod, she left her guests.

"It's a comfy old room, isn't it?" was Judith's guarded observation. "This house-keeping idea of theirs is a clever one."

"That Miss Marsh is a dear," murmured Ethel. "I've seen her once or twice before on the campus, I think."

"I have the feeling that we shall like these girls," commented Adrienne. "This Miss Marsh has the sweet face and the courteous ways."

The entrance of their hostess and her chums prevented further exchange of opinion.

"These are my pals, Ida Leonard, Marie Benham and Kathie Meddart," smiled Freda, going on to name each of her callers as she performed the introduction. "You see I remembered all your names and to whom they belonged."

When a number of girls have the will to become acquainted it does not take them long to do so. Almost immediately a buzz of animated impersonal conversation began.

"We came here to deliver our invitations in person," Jane finally said with a smile. "Miss Leonard, I'd love to be your cavalier for the freshman frolic."

"Thank you. I'd love to go to it with you, I'm sure," accepted Ida Leonard, a tall, thin girl with fair hair and a plain, but interesting face.

Jane having set the ball rolling, Adrienne promptly invited Marie Benham, a slim little girl with an eager, boyish face, framed in curly brown hair.

This left Kathie Meddart, an extremely pretty girl of pure blonde type, to Judith.

Considerable merriment arose over the extending and acceptance of the invitations. Poverty had not robbed the four young hostesses of a cheery, happy-go-lucky air that charmed their more affluent guests.

For an hour the congenial company talked and laughed as only girls can. Kathie finally excusing herself, disappeared kitchenward, presently returning with a huge, brown pitcher of lemonade and a plate piled high with crisp little cakes, which she assured were of her own making.

Needless to say, they disappeared with amazing rapidity, the guests loudly acclaiming their toothsome merits.

"I'm glad you like them," declared Kathie, pink with pleasant confusion. "I took a course in cookery at a night school at home last year. I often used to make this kind of cakes for parties. I had lots of orders and made enough money to pay my tuition fees at Wellington for this year."

"How splendid!" approved Jane. Her approval was echoed by the others.

"I'm hoping, after I get acquainted here in college, to do a little of that sort of thing," confided Kathie rather shyly. "I could spare an hour or so a day to do it. Only I don't know how to go about it."

"Would you—could you—would you care to make some for me, some day?" hesitated Jane. "They would be simply great if one were giving a spread."

"Why, that's ever so kind in you," glowed Kathie. "When I just spoke of it I wasn't fishing for an order. I mentioned it before I thought."

"It's a good thing you did. I'll order two dozen for my own special benefit the minute my check comes," laughed Judith. "I sha'n't give Jane Allen one. I'll sit in a corner of our room and gobble them all up."

"I adore those cakes!" Adrienne clasped her small hands. "Would it then be possible that I might have some to-morrow? Perhaps two dozen? Ah, but I am not the greedy one. I will share with my friends, even most selfish Judy."

This provoked a laugh at Judith's expense. So it was, however, that Kathie received her first order which she agreed to deliver the next day.

As a matter of fact, she had been the only one to demur when Freda had announced that the Madison Hall girls were coming there that evening. She had advanced the argument that "those rich Madison Hall girls won't care to ask us to the dance when they see how poor we are." Now she wondered how she could ever have so misjudged such a delightful lot of girls.



CHAPTER XIII

THE EXPLANATION

When at length the quintette of callers regretfully agreed that they must be getting back to the Hall, Freda said rather nervously:

"Please don't go just yet. I—we—there is something we think we ought to tell you."

"Very well, tell us," invited Judith gaily.

She had an idea that the something might relate to the all-important question of gowns. If Freda were worrying over that, Judith proposed to dismiss the subject lightly. Precisely the same thought had occurred to Jane, who noted Freda's sudden flush and evident confusion.

"Something—well—not very pleasant happened this afternoon," Freda continued. "A—we had a caller—a girl——Why shouldn't I be frank? This girl was of the freshman class. We saw her at class meeting the other day, but we have never been introduced to her. She brought a paper with her and asked us to sign it. It was about three of you girls; Miss Allen, Miss Dupree and Miss Stearns, and——"

"About us?" chorused a trio of astonished voices.

"Yes," nodded Freda, her color heightening. "It began, 'We, the undersigned,' I can't recall the exact words, but it was an agreement not to accept an invitation from any one of you to the dance or to notice you throughout the year, because of the discourteous and hateful way you had treated a member of the freshman class. There were——"

"How perfectly disgraceful!" burst indignantly from Judith. "What did I tell you, girls? I knew there was something wrong. We didn't expect to find it out in this strange way, though. Well, 'murder will out,' as the saying goes."

"You said the paper began, 'We, the undersigned'?" questioned Jane in a clear, hard voice. "How many names were signed to it?"

"I can't say positively." Freda looked distressed. "You see, it made me so disgusted that I handed it back the instant I had read it. The girl offered it to my chums, too, but they wouldn't look at it. She said that nearly all the members of the class had signed it. I know better. I believe not half the class had signed."

"Would you object to telling us the name of the girl who brought you the paper to sign?" steadily pursued Jane.

"I wouldn't object; no. Why should I? A girl like that deserves no clemency," Freda returned spiritedly. "The trouble is, I don't know her name. She is small and dark, with sharp black eyes and a pointed chin. She's very homely, but dresses beautifully. She——"

"Thank you. We know who she is," interrupted Judith. "Her name is Elsie Noble, and she lives at Madison Hall."

"Ah, but she is the hateful one," sputtered Adrienne. "It was most kind in you, Miss Marsh, and your friends also, to thus refuse to sign this hideously untruthful paper. We have done this girl no harm. Rather, it is she who would harm us because we have respected our own rights."

"I suspected it to be a case of spite work," asserted Freda. "It is not usual for a class in college to adopt such harsh measures."

"We were rather surprised at her coming to us with the paper," put in Kathie. "We've seen her with a crowd of girls who don't appear to know that we are on the map. She said she understood that you girls were going to invite us to the dance and felt it her duty to call on us and object to our accepting your invitations."

"But how could she possibly know that?" cried out Ethel Lacey. "No one except the five of us knew it until Norma told you this morning."

"I hope you don't think——" began Freda.

A hurt look had crept into her soft, brown eyes.

"How could we possibly think such a thing?" cut in Jane assuringly. "We can readily understand that Miss Noble's call must have been a complete surprise to you. On the contrary, we are very grateful to you and your friends for not signing the paper."

"Yes, indeed," nodded Judith. "Frankly, we suspected that something unpleasant was in the wind. When first we heard about the dance, we each invited freshmen whom we knew. Every one of them turned us down. We didn't think anything of that in the beginning. We supposed we had just happened to invite the wrong ones. Afterward we thought differently."

"I am sorry we didn't make it our business to get acquainted earlier with you girls. We really should have, you know," Judith apologized. "We were so busy getting started in our classes that we hadn't had time yet to be sociable. Jane and I had both agreed to try to know every girl in the freshman class this year. I'm glad it has turned out like this. I'm sure we'll all have a splendid time at the dance, no matter whether some people like it or not."

"I'm very sure of it, too," declared Kathie Meddart. "I can't understand how a girl could be so contemptible as to deliberately set out to injure others."

"Oh, well, she hasn't succeeded," reminded Judith, "so why should we care? We've invited our freshmen in spite of her."

"What are you going to do about that paper?" Ida Leonard asked a trifle curiously. "If I were you girls, I think I would make a fuss about it. We'll stand by you if you do."

"Indeed we will," echoed Marie Benham. "I wouldn't allow such a document to travel about college."

"It's hard to decide what to do," Jane said gravely. "It might be wiser to ignore the whole thing. I don't know. We'll have to think it over, I guess. I thank you girls for your offer to stand by us."

Aside from Freda's opinion that spite had actuated the circulation of the damaging paper, she and her chums had exhibited an admirable restraint concerning it. They had evidently accepted Adrienne's sketchy explanation of it at its face value.

This courteous disinclination to pry had been especially noted and approved by Jane. It added to the high opinion she already cherished of the four freshmen. They had been moved solely by a sense of duty to inform herself and her companions of the outrageous paper.

Jane felt strongly that an explanation was due them, yet she hated to make it. It would be too much like gossiping, she thought.

"Adrienne told you, a little while ago, that we had done Miss Noble no harm," she said slowly. "That is really all that I think ought to be said about this affair. Are you satisfied to leave it so?"

"Perfectly," replied Freda. "I'd rather it would be that way. I can see no good in dragging up unpleasant things. We'd rather not hear about them."

"The paper itself speaks for those who drew it up," smiled Marie. "It's easy to place the blame where it belongs."

Ida and Kathie's warmly expressed opinion coincided with that of their companion.

"Shall we not speak of more pleasant things? What of the dance? At what time shall we come for you?"

Adrienne had addressed herself to Freda.

Glad to get away from the distasteful topic they had been discussing, the girls began to make their arrangements for the freshman frolic. After a little further talk, the five callers took their leave.

"Well, what are we going to do about it?" demanded Judith, the moment they had reached the street. "I agree with that nice Miss Benham. We can't afford to have a paper like that going the rounds of the college."

"I will of my own accord go to the Prexy. He is of mon pere the old friend. He will not allow that such mischief should be done."

Adrienne threateningly wagged her curly head, as she made this vengeful announcement.

"Good for you, Imp!" lauded Judith.

"I think either Prexy or Miss Rutledge ought to be told," concurred Ethel. "It would nip the whole business in the bud. There'll be more of this sort of thing if it isn't stopped right away.

"Did you hear what I said, Jane?" she questioned over her shoulder to Jane, who was walking behind her with Norma. Ethel, Adrienne and Judith had taken the lead.

"Yes, I heard. Let's wait until we get back to the Hall to talk this over," Jane grimly proposed. "We'll have time to settle it before the ten-thirty bell."

"Come on, then. Forward march!" ordered Judith. "The sooner we get there the longer we'll have to talk."

This important point settled, a brisk hike to the Hall became the order.

"Don't stop to talk to anyone," commanded Judith, as they scampered up the front steps. "Make a bee-line for our room. I'll hang out a 'Busy' sign, so that we won't be disturbed."

Five minutes later the "Busy" sign was in place and the key turned in the lock.

"Three of us can sit on my couch. That means you, Imp and Ethel. Now, Jane and Norma, draw up your chairs. Ahem!" Judith giggled. "What is the pleasure of this indignation meeting? You know what we think, Jane. Let's hear from you and Norma."

"Oh, I haven't any voice in the matter," smiled Norma. "That is, I've no right to decide anything."

"Neither have I, but I'm speaking just the same," laughed Ethel. "I say, 'On to Prexy with the horrible tale.'"

"I think we'd best handle this affair if we can without the faculty's help," Jane said quietly. "If we went to anyone it ought to be Miss Rutledge. I'd rather not tell even her. I hate telling tales."

"I don't," disagreed Judith. "If we let it go without saying a word, we'll have trouble right along. It ought to be stamped out now."

"I intend that it shall be," Jane tersely assured.

"How?"

Judith's query rang with skepticism.

"By going straight to Miss Noble and ordering her to stop it," was Jane's determined reply. "I shall ask her to give me that paper."

"A lot of good that will do." Judith gave a short laugh. "You might as well tell the wind to stop blowing."

"It will do this much good," retorted Jane. "We shall give Miss Noble her choice between giving up that paper or being reported to the faculty."

"Who's going to tell her all this?" demanded Judith in a slightly ruffled tone.

"I am," returned Jane composedly.

"And I. I shall be there also," instantly supported Adrienne.

"Very fine. It looks as though I'd be there myself."

Judith's annoyed expression vanished in a wide grin.

"When do we do this valiant stunt?" she inquired facetiously. "When does the great offensive take place?"

"We'll have to put it off until to-morrow," Jane answered. "It's too late to do it to-night. We'll go to her just before dinner, or else right after. There won't be time enough in the morning or at noon."

"Suppose she won't let us inside her room?" argued Judith.

"She isn't rooming alone," was Jane's reminder. "I intend to see Alicia Reynolds to-morrow and find out just why she wouldn't talk to me the other day. I promised myself that I'd never ask her. But something I saw to-day makes me feel that I must. This Miss Noble has been making trouble between us. I'm convinced of that. It can't go on. The tangle between Alicia and me must be straightened out by a frank understanding of what caused it. Once that is done, Alicia will stand by us, I believe."

"But you said yourself that she'd gone back to Marian Seaton."

Judith looked amazement of Jane's sudden change of opinion.

"So I thought," admitted Jane, "until I saw her pass Marian on the campus to-day without speaking. It came to me right then that only Miss Noble was to blame for the snub Alicia gave me. But I was too proud to run after Alicia and have it out with her. Now I'm going to do it."



CHAPTER XIV

OPENLY AND ABOVEBOARD

When Jane awoke the next morning her first thought crystalized into a determination to interview Alicia Reynolds before the day was over. Speculating as to her best opportunity, she decided that it should be at the end of the morning recitations.

For once she would cut her recitation in Horace, which came the last hour in the morning. Alicia had no recitation at that hour. She would probably be in her room and alone. Jane also knew that Elsie Noble was occupied with a class at that time.

If looks could have killed, Jane and Adrienne would undoubtedly have been carried lifeless from the dining room that morning. At breakfast Elsie Noble's thin face wore an expression of spiteful resentment, which she made no effort to conceal. She was inwardly furious over her failure to rally the four Bridge Street freshmen to her standard. In consequence, she was more bitter against Jane and Adrienne than ever.

It further increased her rancor to hear Adrienne prattling with child-like innocence to Dorothy Martin of the coming dance.

Knowing very well what she was about, the little girl kept up a tantalizing chatter that was maddening in the extreme to the defeated plotter.

Unacquainted with the true state of affairs, Dorothy's genuinely expressed interest in the Bridge Street girls merely added fuel to the fire.

"Ah, but they are indeed delightful!" Adrienne wickedly assured, her black eyes dancing with mischief. "We shall be proud of our freshmen, when we escort them to the dance. Shall we not, Jeanne?"

"Yes, indeed. You must meet them, Dorothy. You'll like them all immensely. They're a splendid, high-principled lot of girls."

Signally amused by Adrienne's tactics, Jane could not resist this one little fling at her discomfited tablemate. She hoped it would serve to enlighten the latter in regard to at least one thing.

Her second recitation, spherical trigonometry, over, Jane hurried across the campus toward the Hall, keeping a sharp lookout for Alicia. It was just possible she might meet the latter on the campus.

Reaching the veranda, Jane lingered there. If she could waylay Alicia as she came in, so much the better. With this idea paramount, she sat down in a high-backed porch rocker and waited.

She could not help reflecting a trifle sadly that thus far her sophomore year had run anything but smoothly. She had looked forward to peace, whereas she was in the midst of strife. And all because Marian Seaton did not like her. That dislike dated back to her initial journey across the continent to Wellington. If she had not antagonized Marian then, she wondered if she and Marian would have become enemies. She decided that they must have. They had nothing whatever in common.

Light, hurrying feet on the walk brought Jane's retrospective musings to an end. She saw Alicia a second before the latter saw her. Promptly rising, she headed Alicia off neatly as she gained the steps.

"I want to speak to you, Alicia," she greeted evenly. "You must listen to me."

"I have nothing to say to you. Please let me alone."

A dull flush mantled Alicia's pale cheeks as she thus spoke. Her tones indicated injury rather than anger.

"But I have something to say to you," persisted Jane. "I must know positively why you have turned against me. It's not fair in you to keep me in the dark. Do you think it is? What have I done to deserve such treatment?"

Stopping on the step below Jane, Alicia stared hard at the quiet, purposeful face looking down on her.

"I believed in you, Jane," she said sadly, with a little catch of breath. "You made me admire you. Then you spoiled it all. It hurt me so. I—I—don't want to talk about it."

She took an undecided step to the right, as though to pass Jane and flee into the house.

"Don't go, Alicia. Let's get together and straighten things out." Jane laid a gentle hand on the other girl's arm. "I'm sure we can. You promised last year to be my friend. Have you forgotten that?"

"How can I be the friend of a girl who talks about me?" Alicia cried out bitterly. "A girl who only pretends friendship?"

"So, that's it. I thought as much. Now tell me what I said about you."

Something in Jane's steady glance caused Alicia's eyes to waver.

"You told Ethel Lacey that you wished you didn't have to invite me to go with you girls to the Inn the other night, but you felt that you could hardly get out of it. That I expected you to do it. You know that's not true. I'd never intrude where I wasn't wanted."

"Did Ethel tell you this?" Jane asked composedly.

"No. Someone else overheard you say it," retorted Alicia.

"And that 'someone else'?"

"I won't tell you. I promised I wouldn't."

"You don't need to tell me, because I know." Jane emphasized the know. "It's not true. I didn't say that. This is what I said."

As well as she could recall it, she repeated the conversation that had taken place between herself and Ethel.

"I asked Ethel to invite you because I didn't want you to go to your room," she explained. "Miss Noble and I are not on speaking terms. Did you know that?"

"Yes, I knew it," Alicia admitted. "I was told it was your fault. I didn't believe it until——"

She paused, uncertainty written large on every feature. She had begun to glimpse the unworthiness of her doubts.

"Until Miss Noble came to you with this untruthful tale about me," finished Jane.

Alicia was silent. She could not truthfully contradict this pertinent statement.

"Which of us do you believe, Alicia?"

Jane put the question with business-like directness.

Alicia mutely studied Jane's resolute face. Honesty of purpose looked out from the long-lashed, gray eyes. She mentally contrasted it with another face; dark, spiteful and furtive.

"I believe you. Forgive me, Jane."

Her lips quivering, Alicia stretched forth a penitent hand.

"There's nothing to forgive."

Jane was quick to grasp the hand Alicia proffered.

"I ought to have come straight to you," quavered the penitent.

"I wish you had. Thank goodness, it's all right now. Let's sit down in the porch swing, Alicia. There are several things yet to be said and this is the time to say them."

Her hand still in Alicia's, Jane gently pulled her toward the swing. When they had seated themselves, she continued:

"I don't like to say things behind anyone's back, but in this case it's necessary. Miss Noble has started her freshman year as a trouble maker. She is very bitter against me for several reasons. When I came back to college, I found that Mrs. Weatherbee had given her my room. She understood that I was not coming to Madison Hall this year. I'm telling you this because I suspect that it is news to you."

"It certainly is." Alicia showed evident surprise. "I supposed Elsie Noble had been assigned to room with me from the start. She never said a word about it to me."

"She didn't want you to know it. I don't wish to explain why. I'll simply say that Mrs. Weatherbee decided I had first right to the room. It made Miss Noble very angry. She came back to the room after she had left it. Adrienne, Judith and I were there. She made quite a scene. I hoped it would end there, but it hasn't. Since then she has tried to set not only you against me, but others also. She has circulated a paper among the freshmen against Judith, Adrienne and I which some of them have signed."

"How perfectly terrible!" was Alicia's shocked exclamation. "She certainly has kept very quiet about it to me. I never suspected such a thing."

"I can't see that it has done us much harm," Jane dryly responded. "It's come to a point, however, where we feel that we ought to assert ourselves. We are here for study, not to quarrel, but we won't stand everything tamely."

"I don't blame you. I wouldn't, either. I'm sure Marian Seaton is behind all this," declared Alicia hotly. "Ever since I came back to the Hall she's been trying to talk to me. Small good it will do her. When I broke friendship with her last year it was for good and all."

"When you wouldn't speak to me the other day, I thought you had gone back to her," confessed Jane. "Just a little before that Dorothy and I had been saying that we thought we ought to try to make Marian see things differently. Afterward I was so angry I gave up the thought as hopeless. It may not be right to say to you, 'Let Marian alone,' when one looks at it from one angle. The Bible says, 'Love your enemies.' On the other hand, it seems wiser to steer clear of malicious persons. Marian is malicious. She's proved that over and over again. No one but herself can make her different."

"I know it's best for me to keep away from her," asserted Alicia. "My influence wouldn't be one, two, three with her. Whenever I tried last year to be honest with myself she just sneered at me. It's either be like her or let her alone, in my case. There's no happy medium. So I choose to let her alone."

"We all have to decide such things for ourselves," Jane said reflectively. "It seems too bad that Marian's so determined to be always on the wrong side. I've decided to let her stay there for the present. If this affair of the paper involved only myself, I'd probably do nothing about it. But it's not right to let Judith and Adrienne suffer for something that's really meant for me."

"What are you going to do?" inquired Alicia.

"That's what I've been leading up to. With your permission I intend to have a reckoning with Miss Noble in your room. I'd like you to be there when it happens. Judith and Adrienne will be with me. Are you willing that it should be so?"

"Yes, indeed," promptly answered Alicia. "When is the grand reckoning to be?"

"This afternoon just before dinner. I can say my say in short order. Of course if she's not in, I'll have to postpone it until later."

"I can let you know as soon as she comes in from her last class," volunteered Alicia.

"No, I'd rather not have it that way." Jane smiled whimsically. "It's had enough to have to go to work and deliberately plan this hateful business. It has to be gone through with. That's certain. We'll just take our chance of finding her in. When you hear us knock, I wish you'd open the door. It's all horrid, isn't it? I feel like a conspirator."

Jane made a gesture indicative of utter distaste for the purposed program.

"It's honest, anyhow. It's not backbiting and underhandedness," Alicia stoutly pointed out.

"No, it isn't," Jane soberly agreed. "That's the only thing that reconciles me to do it. It's dealing openly and aboveboard with treachery and spite."



CHAPTER XV

THE RECKONING

"Voila! We are ready. Let us advance!" proclaimed Adrienne with a smothered chuckle, when at ten minutes to six a determined trio left Adrienne's room on the fateful errand to the room next door.

"Don't you dare giggle when we get in there," warned Judith in a whisper, as Jane rapped sharply on the door. "We must make an imposing appearance if we can," she added with a grin. "Who knows? I may giggle myself."

True to her word, it was Alicia who admitted them with, "Hello, girls! Come in."

As the three entered, a figure lolling in a Morris chair by the window sprang up with an angry exclamation.

"I will not have these people in my room, Alicia Reynolds! Do you hear me? I won't!"

Elsie Noble had turned on Alicia, her small black eyes snapping.

"Half this room happens to be mine," tranquilly reminded Alicia. "Have a seat, girls."

"No, thank you. We won't stay long enough for that." Jane's tone was equally composed. "We came to see you, Miss Noble."

"I won't stay," shrieked the enraged girl, and started for the door.

Alicia reached it ahead of her. Calmly turning the key, she dropped it into her blouse pocket.

"Yes; you will stay, Elsie," she said with quiet decision. "You tried to make trouble between Jane and me. We've found you out. Now, you'll listen to what Jane has to say to you. If you don't, you may be sorry."

Her back against the locked door, Elsie Noble glared at her captors for an instant in speechless fury. Then she found her voice again.

"I'll report every one of you for this! It's an outrage!" she shrilled.

The threat lacked strength, however. A coward at heart, she already stood in fear of the accusing quartette which confronted her.

"Just a moment, Miss Noble. We have no desire to detain you any longer than we can help." Jane's intonation was faintly satirical. "We came here for two purposes. One is to tell you that you must stop making trouble for us among your classmates. You know what you have done. So do we. Don't do it again. I will also trouble you for that paper you have been circulating among the freshmen."

"I don't know what you're talking about," hotly denied the culprit. Her eyes, however, shifted uneasily from those of her accusers.

"Oh, yes you do." Judith now took a hand. "You ought to know. Don't you remember? You began it, 'We the undersigned,' and ended your little stunt with the names of as many freshmen as were foolish enough to listen to you."

"You seem to think you know a whole lot," sneered Elsie. "I'm very sure not one of you ever saw such a paper as you describe."

"We did not see it, but we know four girls who did," Jane informed with quiet significance. "They were asked to sign it and refused. They are quite willing to testify to this should we see fit to take the matter to President Blakesly or Miss Rutledge."

"You wouldn't dare do such a thing!" the cornered plotter cried out defiantly. "He—you—he wouldn't listen to such a—a—story as you're trying to tell. He has something better to do than listen to gossiping sophomores. Miss Rutledge wouldn't listen, either."

"I don't think either President Blakesly or Miss Rutledge would refuse to listen to anything that had to do with one student's attempt to injure another," was Jane's grave response. "However, that is not the point. You must make up your mind either to give me that paper and your promise to stop your mischief-making, or else defend yourself as best you can to the faculty. Naturally, we would prefer to settle the matter here and without publicity. If it is carried higher, it will involve not only you, but all the others who signed the paper. If this concerned me alone, I would not be here. But I cannot allow my friends to suffer, simply because they are my friends."

Jane delivered her ultimatum with a tense forcefulness that admitted of no further trifling.

"I can't—I won't—I——" floundered Elsie, now more afraid than angry. "How do I know that you wouldn't take it to President Blakesly if I gave it to you?" she demanded desperately.

"Ah! She admits that she has it!" exclaimed Adrienne triumphantly. The little girl had hitherto kept silent, content to let Jane do the talking. "She is of a truth quite droll."

"Yes, I have it!" Elsie fiercely addressed Adrienne. "I'm going to keep it, too, you horrid little torment."

It was Jane who now spoke, and with a finality.

"A moment more, please. I want to ask you two questions, Miss Noble. The first is: 'How did you happen to overhear the private conversation between Miss Lacey and myself that you repeated so incorrectly to Alicia?' The second is: 'How did you know that we intended to invite the Bridge Street girls to the freshman frolic?' We had mentioned it to no one outside, except Miss Marsh, who certainly did not tell you."

"I won't answer either question," sputtered Elsie. "You can't make me tell you. You'll never know from me."

"I was sure you wouldn't answer." Jane smiled scornfully. "I asked you merely because I wanted to call your attention to both instances. That's all. I'm sorry we can not settle this affair quietly. If you will kindly stand aside, Alicia will unlock the door."

"I—you mustn't tell President Blakesly!"

There was a hint of pleading in the protesting cry. Thoroughly cowed by the fell prospect she was now facing, Elsie crumpled.

"You're mean, too—mean—for—anything!" she wailed, and burst into tears. "You—ought to be—ashamed—to—come—here—and—bully me—like—this. I'll give you—the—paper—but—I'll hate you as long as I live, Jane Allen!"

Sheer intensity of emotion steadied her voice on this last passionate avowal.

Handkerchief to her eyes, she stumbled across the room to the chiffonier. Jerking open the top drawer, she groped within and drew forth a folded paper. Turning, she threw it at Jane with vicious force. It fluttered to the floor a few feet from where she stood.

Very calmly Jane marched over and picked it up. Unfolding it, she glanced it over.

"Please read it, girls," she directed, handing it to Judith.

The latter silently complied and passed it to Adrienne, who in turn gave it to Alicia.

Alicia's face grew dark as she perused it. An angry spot of color appeared on each cheek.

"How could you?" she said, her eyes resting on her roommate in immeasurable contempt.

"You did perfectly right in coming here, Jane," she commented, as she returned the paper to the latter. "I am ashamed to think I ever allowed this girl's spite to come between us. I should have known better."

"It's all past. It won't happen again, Alicia. Now——"

With a purposeful hand Jane tore the offending paper to bits. Stepping over to the waste basket she dropped them into it.

"This incident is closed," she sternly announced to the sullen-faced author of the mischief. "You understand that there are to be no more of a similar nature involving us or any other girls here at Wellington?"

"Yes," muttered Elsie.

"Thank you."

Jane had intended the "Thank you" to be her last word. Something in the expression of abject defeat that looked out from that lowering face stirred her to sudden pity.

"I'm sorry this had to happen, Miss Noble," she said, almost gently. "There's only one thing to do; forget it. We intend to. Won't you? I'm willing to begin over again and——"

"Don't preach to me! I hate you! I'll never forgive you!"

Out of defeat, resentment flared afresh. Darting past the group of girls, Elsie Noble gained the door which was now unlocked. She flashed from the room slamming the door behind her with a force that threatened to shake it from its hinges.

"Some little tempest," cheerfully averred Judith. "Jane, let me congratulate you. You did the deed."

"Don't congratulate me." Jane scowled fiercely. "I feel like—well, just what she said I was—a bully. She's not so much to blame. She's a poor little cat's-paw for Marian Seaton."

"She's to blame for letting herself be influenced by Marian," disagreed Judith. "How do you suppose she found out about our going to invite the Bridge Street freshmen to the dance?"

"She must have, of a certainty, listened at our door," declared Adrienne.

"I don't believe she could hear a thing that way," disagreed Judith. "These doors are heavy. The sound doesn't go through them. Besides, she couldn't stand outside and eavesdrop long without being noticed by some one passing through the hall. Girls are always coming and going, you know."

"Yet how could she otherwise know these things?" insisted Adrienne.

"Give it up." Judith shook her head. "It's a mystery. She knew them. Maybe some day we'll know how she learned. We'll probably find out when we least expect to. Just stumble upon it long after we've forgotten all about it."



CHAPTER XVI

PLAYING CAVALIER

That evening after dinner, Jane indulged in one of her dark, floor-tramping moods. The disagreeable interview of the afternoon had left a bad taste in her mouth. She had done what she had deemed necessary, but at heart she was intensely disgusted with herself.

She wondered what Dorothy Martin would have done, given the same circumstances. She longed to tell Dorothy all about it, yet she felt that it belonged only to those whom it directly concerned.

"Do sit down and behave, Jane," admonished Judith. "You make me nervous. Your tramp, tramp, tramp gets into my head and I can't study. You act as though you'd committed a murder and hidden the body in the top drawer of the chiffonier."

"Excuse me, Judy. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to disturb you. I guess the whole affair has gotten on my nerves."

With this apology, Jane sought a chair and made a half-hearted attempt at study. Gradually she drew her mind from unpleasant thoughts and proceeded to concentrate it upon her lessons for the next day.

It was not until she and Judith were preparing for bed that the latter re-opened the subject.

"Adrienne and I tried a little stunt of our own after dinner to-night," she confessed somewhat sheepishly. "Imp went into her room and I stood outside the door. She read a paragraph out loud from a book, but I couldn't understand a word she said. I could just catch the sound of her voice and that was all."

"Humph!" was Jane's sole reply.

"Yes, 'humph' if you want to. It goes to show that the ignoble Noble never got her information that way. The question is, 'How did she get it?'"

"I don't know and I don't care," returned Jane wearily. "Please, Judy, I want to forget the whole thing."

"I don't. I'm going to be an investigating investigator and solve the mystery. Watch slippery Judy, the dauntless detective of Madison Hall. Leave it to her to puzzle out the puzzle."

"Better forget it," advised Jane shortly.

"Oh, never! Let me have at least one worthy object in life, won't you?" was Judith's blithe plea. "Never mind, Imp will support and admire my ambition, even if you don't."

Judith was not in the least cast down by the defeat of an unworthy foe. She was glad of it. Brought up among girls, she was too much used to such squabbles to take them to heart.

For the next three days she and Adrienne amused themselves by planning wild schemes to entrap the "ignoble Noble" and wring from her a confession of her nefarious methods. So wild, indeed, were their projects that the mere discussion of them invariably sent them into peals of laughter.

As a matter of fact, neither could devise a plausible scheme by which they might discover what they burned to know. Both were agreed that chance alone would put them in possession of the much desired information.

Wednesday evening of the following week saw Jane, Adrienne, Judith and Norma set off in a taxicab for 605 Bridge Street to escort their new friends to the freshman frolic.

Due to the demand for taxicabs for that evening, they had been able to secure only one, whereas they needed two. They had decided to overcome this difficulty by having the driver make two trips, carrying four girls at each trip.

According to Judith, "We could all squeeze into one taxi, but I have too much respect for my costly apparel to risk it."

The quartette of escorting sophomores made a pretty picture that evening as they trooped down the steps of the Hall to the waiting taxicab.

Jane had chosen a particularly stunning frock of silver tissue, worn over a foundation of dull green satin. In lieu of flowers, a single beautiful spray of English ivy trailed across one white shoulder. The gown was the handsomest she owned and she had originally intended to save it for a later festivity. Realizing that she must inevitably become a target for the displeased eyes of those who disliked her, she had decided that so far as apparel went she would leave no room for criticism.

Adrienne, who loved daring colors, had elected to appear in a chiffon creation, the exact shade of an American Beauty rose. It set off her dark, vivid loveliness to perfection. Designed by herself, it had been fashioned by a French woman who attended to the making of her distinguished mother's gowns. In consequence, it was a triumph of its kind. As a last touch, a cluster of short-stemmed American Beauties nestled against the low-cut bodice of the gown.

Judith looked charming in a white net over apricot taffeta with a bunch of sunset roses tucked into the black velvet ribbon sash that completed the costume.

Norma was wearing the becoming blue and white gown Jane had given her the previous year. Since that first eventful freshman dance, when Jane had played fairy godmother to her, she had worn the exquisite frock only once. Now it looked as fresh and dainty as it had on that immemorial night. Trimmed as it was with clusters of velvet forget-me-nots, Norma wore no natural flowers.

Though she had by her summer's work in the stock company earned immunity from drudgery, she had earned no more than that. With the exception of this one gown, she dressed almost as simply as in the old days. She confined her wardrobe to one or two serviceable one-piece dresses, a coat suit and a quantity of dainty white silk blouses and lingerie. These last were fashioned and laundered by her own clever fingers.

"I hope we're not too fine for our girls," Norma remarked anxiously as the four skipped, one after the other, from the taxicab at the Bridge Street address.

"I thought of that, too, but I decided that they'd like it if we looked our very smartest. They are too independent to feel crushed by a mere matter of fine clothes," was Jane's opinion.

The frank admiration with which the four freshmen exclaimed over their gorgeous escorts served to point to the accuracy of her opinion.

"You're regular birds of Paradise!" laughed Freda. "We are certainly lucky to capture such prizes. We're not a bit splendiferous, ourselves. But then, why should we be? It wouldn't match with our humble status."

"You look sweet, every one of you," praised Judith. "Your gowns are dear. They are wonderfully becoming."

"We made them ourselves last summer," explained Kathie with a little air of pride. "We clubbed together and bought a bolt of this white Persian lawn. Ida crocheted these butterfly medallions set in Freda's gown and mine. Then Marie embroidered the designs on hers and Ida's gowns. Each dress is a little different from the other, yet they all look pretty much alike."

"They are all beautiful," Jane warmly assured.

She could say so in absolute truth. Simple, graceful lines, combined with dainty hand-wrought trimmings had produced four frocks which would have sold at a high price in an exclusive city dress shop.

"Ah, but you are the clever ones!" bubbled Adrienne. "It is we who must be proud of you. I would that ma mere could see these frocks. She would, of a certainty, rave with the delight. Ma mere, you must know, is the true Frenchwoman who appreciates highly the beautiful handwork such as this."

"You rather take us off our feet," smiled Marie. "We were not expecting it, you know."

The brightness in her own eyes was reflected in that of her chums. Girl-like, they found exquisite happiness in being thus appreciated.

"We'd better be starting," Jane presently proposed. "We could get only one taxi, so four of us will have to go first and four more in a second load."

Jane's anxiety to be starting lay not entirely in her natural impatience of delay. She was not quite easy in mind regarding the reception awaiting them. Marian Seaton had been chosen to stand in the receiving line. That in itself was sufficient to make her believe that the earlier the ordeal of formal greeting could be gone through with the better it would be for all concerned.

She did not doubt that Marian was in full possession of the facts concerning her cousin's recent defeat. It would be exactly like Marian to create a disagreeable scene. If this had to happen, she preferred that it should take place before the majority of the crowd arrived.

She had expressed this fear to Judith who had scouted at the idea on the grounds that Marian "wouldn't be crazy enough to make an idiot of herself before everybody."

"You and Adrienne go first with your ladies, Judy," she continued. "If you don't mind, I wish you'd wait in the corridor for the rest of us. We'll be only a few minutes behind you."

"It's just like this, girls," she turned to the four freshmen. "I'm not borrowing trouble, but if any of the sophs in the receiving line act—well—not very cordial, you needn't be surprised. It will be because of that paper you girls wouldn't sign. I hadn't mentioned it before, but——" Jane paused. "The girl gave it to us. We destroyed it," she added with a briefness that did not invite questioning.

"I'm glad you destroyed it," congratulated Freda.

"So am I," came in concert from her three chums.

"We're not a bit sensitive," lightly assured Ida Leonard. "We aren't going to let a few snubs spoil our good time."

"I guess we'll be sufficient unto ourselves," predicted Kathie optimistically. "Now we'd better get our flowers, pals, so as not to keep our distinguished cavaliers waiting."

Excusing themselves, the quartette of freshmen repaired to the tiny back porch, where the four bouquets of roses sent them by their escorts had been carefully placed in water to keep them fresh against the time of use.

"They are awfully thoroughbred, aren't they?" commented Judith in an undertone. "Never a question about that ignoble Noble mix-up. Honestly, Jane, do you think Marian will behave like a donkey?"

Laughter greeted this inquiry. Jane immediately grew grave.

"It wouldn't surprise me," she shrugged. "We can't expect, naturally, that she will notice us as we pass her in the receiving line. Certainly we sha'n't notice her. If only she doesn't say something hateful to us that will attract attention. I mean, about our freshmen."

The return into the room of the latter, each laden with a big bouquet of fragrant roses, cut short the conversation.

Half an hour and the eight girls were reunited in the corridor leading to the gymnasium. Each cavalier gallantly offering an arm to the freshman of her choice, they walked two by two into the gymnasium, which had been transformed for the night into a veritable ball room. It was already fairly well filled with daintily gowned girls, who stood about, or sat in little groups, talking animatedly.

Near the entrance to the room, the reception committee were lined up in all their glory. Jane's quick glance discerned Marian Seaton, resplendent in an elaborate gown of pale blue satin, standing at the far end of the line. Her usually arrogant features wore an expression of fatuous complacency. It took wing the instant she spied Jane and her friends.

"Now it's coming," was Jane's mental conviction, as she noted the swift lowering change in the other girl's face.

Heading the little procession with Ida Leonard, Jane suddenly saw her way clear. She could only hope that the others of her group would take their cue from her.



CHAPTER XVII

THE EAVESDROPPER

Politely responding to the greetings extended to herself and Ida as they advanced down the line, they came at last to the girl who stood next to Marian. The instant Jane had touched hands with the former she drew Ida's arm within her own and turned abruptly away, without giving Marian time to do more than glare angrily after her. Jane realized very well that what she had done was in the nature of a rudeness, yet she felt that under the circumstances it was justifiable.

To her great relief, Judith, Adrienne and Ethel did precisely the same thing.

"Well, we came through with our heads still on," congratulated naughty Judith in Jane's ear, the moment they had won clear of the fateful receiving line. "Clever little Janie. I saw and I heeded. Our dear Marian looked ready to bite. I think she would have snapped anyway, if we'd given her half a chance. Good thing she was on the end. I'm sure nobody noticed."

"I hope no one did," Jane sighed. "I hated to do it. I think, too, she intended to be hateful. I saw it in her face, so I just slid away without giving her a chance. I'm glad that ordeal's over. Now I must find some partners for Ida. The dancing will soon begin."

This proved an easy task. Whatever might be freshman opinion of Jane Allen, she had more friends among the sophomores than she had believed possible. In touch socially with her class for the first time since her return to Wellington, she was amazed at the smiling faces and gay greetings which she met at every turn.

It had a wonderfully cheering effect on her, coming as it did on the heels of the recent freshman demonstration of ill-will. It gave her a thrill of intense happiness. She resolved to put away every vexatious thought and enjoy the frolic with all her might.

That she had successfully put her resolution into effect was evidenced by her bright eyes and laughing lips when, two hours afterward, she and Judith seated themselves on a wicker settee after a one-step which they had danced together for old time's sake.

"I'm having a splendiferous time!" glowed Judith. "You can see for yourself how much that old paper amounted to. Most of these freshmen have been lovely to me. I've steered clear of the ones who looked doubtful. I've had a few scowls handed to me. It's been easy to pick out the ignoble Noble's satellites by their freezing stares. I wonder who escorted our noble little friend? Cousin Marian, no doubt," she added, with her ever-ready chuckle.

"No doubt," was Jane's dry repetition. "Let's go and get some lemonade, Judy," she proposed irrelevantly. "Just watching that crowd around the punch bowl makes me thirsty."

"I'm in need of a few cups of lemonade myself," concurred Judith amiably.

Attempting to rise, an ominous ripping sound informed Jane that Judith had been unconsciously sitting on a fold of the silver tissue overdress to her gown.

"Oh, what a shame! I didn't know I was sitting on your overskirt, Jane. That's too bad!"

Judith hastily got to her feet to ruefully inspect the amount of damage she had done.

"It's nothing," Jane assured lightly. "Let's drink our lemonade and then go over to the dressing room. I can pin this tear so it will stay, I guess. The gathers are only ripped out a little."

Having drunk two cups of lemonade apiece, they strolled on toward the dressing room. It was the little side room the freshman team had used the previous year when playing basket-ball.

Nor were they aware, as they crossed the wide room, arm in arm, that a certain pair of pale blue eyes jealously watched them. As they disappeared through the dressing-room door, Marian Seaton hurried after them, disagreeable purpose written on her face.

Quite oblivious to the fact that she was one of a welcoming committee, she had fully intended to say something cutting to Jane when the latter should arrive that evening in the gymnasium. Having missed one opportunity she did not propose to miss a second. This time Jane Allen should hear what she had to say.

At the slightly opened door she heard words which brought her to an abrupt halt. It was not the first time she had listened at that selfsame door. Edging close, she turned her back to it.

Facing the big room, her pale eyes roved over it with studied carelessness. Her ears, however, were sharply trained to catch the sound of two voices that drifted plainly out to her.

Meanwhile Judith, unaware of listeners, was gayly remarking as she pinned up the tear in Jane's overdress:

"This reminds me of the tear in the white lace dress that caused such a fuss last year. It was a good thing you were around to help Norma out of that mix-up. If it hadn't been for you, Edith Hammond would have gone straight to Mrs. Weatherbee and told her that it was Norma who stole her dress. I must say, Edith acted splendidly about it afterward. I never thought she had it in her to do as she did."

"Things looked pretty black for poor Norma that day until I made things right with Edith," reminisced Jane. "She was determined to make Norma give back her dress when all the while——"

"It was Judy Stearns who had really stolen it," merrily supplemented Judith.

"I'll never forget Edith's face when I told her I was sorry to say that the real thief was Judith Stearns," laughed Jane.

"I was the thief, all right enough, but only a few people knew it. Alas, my fatal failing!" grinned Judith. "There! I guess that will stay. Let's go. I hear the enlivening strains of a fox trot. That means us."

It also meant to the listener outside that her time of eavesdropping was up. Before the two occupants of the dressing room had reached the door Marian Seaton had hurried away from it, her original intention quite forgotten.



CHAPTER XVIII

DIVIDING THE HONORS

Once the sophomores had done their duty in the way of entertaining their freshmen sisters, they promptly turned to their own affairs.

Following the freshman frolic a busy week of sophomore electioneering set in. It was succeeded by a class meeting that barely escaped being a quarrel.

At least a third of the class had, it appeared, enlisted under Marian Seaton's banner. These ardent supporters who had espoused her cause in the previous year and had been defeated, again came to the front with belligerent energy. Though lacking in numbers, they were strong in disagreeable opposition.

Christine Ellis' nomination of Judith Stearns for president, which was seconded by Alicia Reynolds, caused one after another of Marian's adherents to rise to their feet in hot objection. For five minutes or more the chairman of the nomination committee had her hands full in subduing the rebels.

Stung by the insult, Judith arose, white with righteous wrath, to decline the nomination. Repeated cries of, "Sit down, Judy. We want you for our president!" "What's the matter with Judy? She's all right!" and, "Judy Stearns or nobody!" drowned the refusal she strove to utter. In the end she threw up her hands in a gesture of despair and sat down, amid approving cheers from her triumphant supporters.

The nomination of Alicia Reynolds as vice-president was hardly less opposed by the other faction, though it was carried in spite of protest. With deliberate intent to shame, Barbara Temple calmly nominated Maizie Gilbert as treasurer, thereby astounding the objectors to momentary dumbness. They soon rallied, however, and one of their number hastily seconded the nomination, which was carried.

Emboldened to action, Maizie promptly nominated Leila Brookes, one of her friends, for secretary. This nomination was avidly seconded by another of Marian's adherents and also carried. Having won their point against unworthy opposition, the majority could afford to be generous.

The final result of the election found honors equally divided between the two sets of girls, a condition of affairs which promised anything but a peaceful year for 19—.

Gathered at Rutherford Inn that evening for a spread in honor of Judith, given by Christine and Barbara, the latter expressed herself frankly in regard to the afternoon's proceedings.

"That class meeting was as nearly a riot as could be," she declared disgustedly. "I expected to engage in hand-to-hand combat before it ended. I thought the best way to shame that crowd was to give them the chance, they didn't want to give us."

"They snapped at it, too," Christine Ellis said scornfully.

"I'll never forgive you girls for making me president when I didn't want to be," was Judith's rueful assertion.

"We would never have forgiven you if you had backed out," retorted Ethel Lacey.

"I didn't have the least word to say about it. Nobody would listen to me."

Judith's comical air of resignation provoked a laugh.

"You should thus be pleased that you are well-liked, Judy," asserted Adrienne. "And Alicia, here, we were delighted with your success, ma chere."

"I never dreamed of being nominated." A faint color stole into Alicia's pale face. "I'd much rather it had been one of you girls."

"I'm heartily glad I was out of it all," declared Jane with emphasis. "There's only one thing I really want this year in the way of college honors."

"To make the sophomore team?" asked Christine.

"Yes."

An eager light sprang into Jane's gray eyes.

"You'll make it, Jane," predicted Barbara. "You can outplay us all. Some of us are going to lose out, though. There are five of us here who are going to try for it. Judy, Adrienne, you, Christine and I. Of course we can't all make it. Quite a lot of sophs are going to try for it this year besides us. Marian Seaton will be one of them, I suppose."

"She'll make it, if any of her friends happen to be judges at the try-out," commented Judith sagely. "I hope Dorothy Martin will be chosen as one of the judges. She can be depended upon to do the fair thing. Miss Hurley was awfully unfair last year. I wish Dorothy'd be chosen as our manager."

"We ought to do a little practicing, girls," urged Jane. "Let's start in to-morrow afternoon, provided we can have the gym. I understand the freshman team have been monopolizing it ever since their try-out last week."

"Who's on the freshman team?" asked Ethel curiously.

"I don't know. Haven't been over to see them work," Jane replied. "Have any of you?" She glanced about the round table at her friends.

A general shaking of heads revealed the fact that no one had.

"It's queer, but somehow I can't get interested in the freshmen," confided Barbara Temple. "A lot of them acted awfully stand-offish toward me on the night of the dance."

"I noticed the same thing!" exclaimed Christine in surprise. "I thought it was my imagination. Those four girls you folks brought were sweet, though."

"They are dandy girls," interposed Judith hastily, and immediately launched forth in praise of the Bridge Street freshmen.

Though she could have very quickly explained the strained attitude of the freshman class to Christine and Barbara, she held her peace. She decided, however, to have a talk that night with Jane. It was not fair that these two loyal friends should be kept in the dark about what bade fair to affect them unpleasantly.

That she was not alone in her opinion became manifest when, toward nine o'clock, Alicia, Ethel, Adrienne, Jane and herself bade Christine and Barbara good night and went on across the campus toward Madison Hall.

"Jane," began Judith abruptly, "I think we ought to tell Christine and Barbara about that freshman business. I didn't want to say a word until I'd put it up to you girls."

"Yes, I suppose we ought to tell them." Jane spoke almost wearily. "I didn't say anything about it to-night because I hated to drag it all up again. If you see either of the girls to-morrow, Judy, you'd better explain matters. I don't want to. I'm sick of the whole business."

"I'm heartily sick of my roommate. I can tell you that," said Alicia. "If I had known when that girl walked into my room that she was Marian Seaton's cousin I should have refused to room with her. She's completely under Marian's thumb. Whatever Marian tells her to do she does. You'd think after what happened the other day that she'd be too angry ever to speak to me again. Well, she isn't. She tries to talk to me whenever we're together. She told me yesterday that I had made a terrible mistake in giving up Marian for you girls."

"Marian put her up to that," declared Judith.

"Of course she did," nodded Alicia. "Elsie had the nerve to tell me that Marian felt dreadfully over the horrid way I'd treated her. She blames Jane for it, and says she'll get even with her for it. I blame myself for being so hateful last year. Jane showed me how to be the person I'd always wanted to be, but was too cowardly then to be it."

"Jane is of us all the loyal friend," broke in Adrienne. "Sometimes she wears the fierce scowl and has the look of the lion, yet I am not afraid of her. See, even now she scowls, but she will not eat us. She scowls thus to hide the embarrassment."

The bright moonlight betrayed plainly the deep scowl between Jane's brows to which Adrienne had called attention.

"Imp, you're a rascal." Jane's brows immediately smoothed themselves. "You know altogether too much about me. I was embarrassed. That's a fact. What Alicia said made me feel rather queer because I don't think I deserved it. I can't be the person I want to be myself, let alone showing anybody else. That's what has been bothering me right along. I'd like to be able to rise above caring whether or not Marian Seaton tries to get even with me."

"You can't do it, Jane, and be just to yourself," Alicia said very positively. "I know Marian a great deal better than I wish I did. She'll never stop trying to work against you as long as you're both at Wellington. She'll never let a chance slip to make trouble for you. I'd advise you to be on your guard and the very next time she tries anything hateful, go to Miss Rutledge with the whole story of the way she's treated you ever since you came to college."

"I couldn't do that. Not for myself, I mean. If it were something hateful she'd done to one of you girls, I could. I would have truly gone to Miss Rutledge or even Prexy with that paper, because it was injurious to Judy and Imp; not because of myself."

"Never mind, Jane. I am here to protect you," Judith reminded gaily. "I'd fight for you as quickly as you'd fight for me. Just remember that."

Judith began the little speech lightly. She ended with decided purpose.

"I know it, Judy."

Walking as she was beside her roommate, Jane slipped an affectionate hand within Judith's arm.

"If Marian plays on the team with you girls, then look out," further advised Alicia. "She'll do something to stir up trouble, you may depend upon it. I know I'm croaking, but I can't help it."

"Wait till she makes the team," grinned Judith. "She may find herself outplayed at the try-out. If she does, little Judy won't weep. No, indeed. I'll give a grand celebration in honor of the joyful event."

"I, also, will shed few tears," Adrienne drily concurred. "Ah, but I shall look forward to that most grand celebration! So at last this very wicked Marian shall perhaps be the cause of some little pleasure to us."

Jane could not resist joining in the laugh that greeted this naive assertion. She wished she could feel as little concern about the matter as did Judith and Adrienne. Alicia's warning against Marian had taken hold on her more strongly than she could wish.

To Jane it seemed almost in the nature of a prophesy of disaster. She found herself inwardly hoping with her friends that Marian would not make the team. Instantly she put it aside as unworthy of what she, Jane Allen, desired to be. A good pioneer must forge ahead, surmounting one by one each obstacle that rose in the path. Again it came to Jane in that moment, out under the stars, that it could make no difference to her what Marian Seaton did or did not do to her, so long as she, an intrepid pioneer, steadily kept to work at clearing her own bit of college land.

She had earlier expressed this conviction to Dorothy. Later it had been swept away by bitter doubts as to whether she could continue to maintain a lofty indifference toward Marian's spiteful activities. Would she be obliged eventually to descend to Marian's level and fight her with her own weapons? She had more than once, of late, darkly considered the question. Now she knew that so long as Marian's spleen directed itself against her, and her alone, she could never do it. She would fight for her friends, but never for herself.



CHAPTER XIX

RANK INJUSTICE

At half-past four o'clock on the Wednesday following the sophomore class elections, the sophomore basket-ball try-out took place in the gymnasium. Twenty girls of the sophomore class had elected to enter the lists, while the usual number of freshmen and upper class spectators lined the walls of the big room.

Among the ten bloomer-clad girls who were finally picked for the deciding tussle, five wore the dark green uniforms that had identified them the previous year as the official freshman team. They were Judith, Jane, Adrienne, Christine Ellis and Marian Seaton. Among the other five contestants, Barbara Temple and Olive Hurst, both of last year's practice team, had survived. The other three girls were disappointed aspirants of the previous year's try-out, who had sturdily returned to the lists for a try at making the sophomore team.

When the shrill notes of the whistle sent the ten into deciding action, it became immediately evident that it would be nip and tuck as to the winners. In every girlish heart lived the strong determination to be among the elect. In consequence, the zealous ten treated the spectators to a most spirited exhibition of basket-ball prowess.

When it had ended, the players ran off the floor, breathlessly to await the verdict. With the exception of two of them, opinion was divided. Regarding these two, there was no doubt in the minds of the watchers that Jane Allen and Adrienne Dupree, at least, had made the team. They were distinctly eligible.

Each in her own fashion had shown actual brilliancy of playing. The others had done extremely well. How well was a matter which must be left to the three judges to decide.

While the ten impatiently waited for the decision, over in the judges' corner a spirited discussion was going on between Dorothy Martin and the two seniors who were officiating with her in the capacity of judges. One of them, Selina Brown, had already been appointed as basket-ball manager of the teams for the year.

"I do not agree with you, Miss Brown," Dorothy was protesting, her fine face alive with righteous vexation. "In my opinion, Miss Stearns has completely outplayed Miss Seaton. In fact she has always been the better player of the two. Granted, Miss Seaton is an excellent player, but Miss Stearns outclasses her. I say this in absolute fairness. Try them out again and you will see, even if you don't now."

"I am sorry to be obliged to differ with you regarding Miss Stearns, but Miss Seaton must be my first and last choice. Miss Nelson quite agrees with me. Do you not?"

She turned triumphantly to the third judge for corroboration.

"I—really—yes, I think Miss Seaton is the better player."

The reply, begun hesitatingly, went on to firmness. Laura Nelson had the grace to color slightly, however, as she made it. Indebted to Marian Seaton for several rides in the latter's limousine, as well as hospitable entertainment at Rutherford Inn, she felt compelled to stand by at the critical moment. She had been privately given to understand beforehand that Marian was to make the team, whoever else failed.

"The majority rules, I believe, Miss Martin."

A disagreeable smile hovered about Miss Brown's thin lips as she said this.

"It does, but——" Patent contempt looked out from Dorothy's steady eyes.

"But what?" sharply challenged Selina Brown.

"It is an unfair majority," was the quiet accusation. "As the other four players have been chosen, I will leave you to make the announcement."

So saying, Dorothy turned abruptly and walked away, too greatly incensed to trust herself longer in the company of the pair whom she had flatly accused of unfairness. Straight across the gymnasium she walked to where Judith, Jane, Christine, Barbara and Adrienne stood, an eager group.

"Girls," she said, in a wrathfully impressive voice, "I'm going to stand here beside you. When the announcement of the team is made you'll understand why."

"What's the matter, Dorothy?" anxiously questioned Christine.

Four pairs of eyes riveted themselves wonderingly on Dorothy's flushed, indignant face. None of the quartette had ever before seen sweet-tempered Dorothy Martin so manifestly angry. Something of an unusual nature must have happened.

"Don't ask me now. Listen!"

A loud blast from the whistle, held to Selina Brown's lips, was now enjoining silence. Immediately after the sound had died away, a hush fell upon the great room as the senior manager stepped forward and announced:

"For the official sophomore team the following players have been chosen: Adrienne Dupree, Barbara Temple, Christine Ellis, Jane Allen, and Marian Seaton. To act as subs: Olive Hurst and Marjory Upton."

Immediately she went on with a speech, meant to be politely consoling to the defeated contestants.

A faint, concerted gasp arose from the little group collected about Dorothy. This, then, was the explanation of Dorothy's indignation.

"It's an outrage! I'm going to protest!" muttered Jane, her tones thick with wrath. "No, I'm going to refuse to play on the team."

"And I also," echoed Adrienne hotly.

"Let's do it!" urged Christine, catching Barbara by the arm. "Right now, before that Miss Brown gets through with her hypocritical speech."

"No, girls, you mustn't. I—I—don't—want you to," quavered Judith.

"We've got to, Judy! It's rank injustice, piled high!" declared Christine tempestuously.

"If you do—I'll hate all of you!" Judith desperately threatened. "You've got to stay on the team, simply because I'm not on it. I'm not blind and neither are you. One of us had to go to make room for Marian Seaton. It would have been Jane, I'm sure, if she hadn't played so well. They didn't quite dare do it. So I had to take it. We don't know what's back of it. Maybe it's been done on purpose to bring about the very thing you want to do. I say, don't give in to it. Stick to the team."