On Grace’s return to Overton and Harlowe House from her Easter vacation she plunged into her work with feverish energy. She wished, if possible, to free herself of this strange, unbidden love for Tom which seemed to grow and deepen with every passing day, and which made her utterly miserable. Then, too, she did not know when the dreaded summons might come from Miss Wharton, and she longed to do as much as she could for her girls while the opportunity was yet hers. It was with this spirit that she entered into the plans for their revue, which was to be given in Greek Hall, and from the number of tickets already sold promised to be a sweeping success.

Arline and Elfreda had accepted their invitations with alacrity, promising to come to Overton several days beforehand for the purpose of making Grace a visit. The girls who were to take part in the revue were using every spare moment to perfect themselves in their parts and specialties, and every night the living room was the scene of much rehearsing.

According to information received from Emma, Miss Wharton was not filling Miss Wilder’s place with signal success. She had shown herself to be not only extremely narrow-minded, but quarrelsome as well. She had antagonized more than one member of the faculty by either tactlessly criticising their methods of instruction, or seeking to force them into open dispute. Being only human, those whom she sought to humble retaliated by taking advantage of her recent assumption of the duties of dean to make her college path as thorny as circumstances would admit, and Miss Wharton was obliged to put aside all else, including the judgment she intended to pass upon Grace, in a powerful contention for supremacy over those who had worsted her in sundry college matters.

Grace did not flatter herself that this state of affairs could last; she was certain that, sooner or later, the blow would fall, but she wisely resolved to put the whole unhappy business from her mind and make hay while her brief college sun still shone.

The arrival of Elfreda Briggs and Arline Thayer three days before the date set for the entertainment made things seem like old times.

“It certainly does you a world of good to have Elfreda and Arline here, Gracious,” observed Emma Dean as she stopped in the doorway of Grace’s little office on her way to her room from her morning recitations.

“I can’t bear to think of their leaving me,” smiled Grace, looking up from the account book on her desk. Her face had partially regained its former light and sparkle. “They are coming here to luncheon to-day. Did you know it?”

“Yes, I saw J. Elfreda on my way across the campus this morning. They ought to be here soon now.”

A ring of the bell, answered by the maid, and the sound of Arline’s clear tones, mingled with Elfreda’s deeper ones, proclaimed the arrival of the two Sempers. The luncheon bell rang almost directly afterward, so the four friends had time only to exchange salutations before going to the table.

“Do you know, girls, I can’t get used to Overton without Miss Wilder,” declared Arline Thayer as they seated themselves at Grace’s table, which had been set for four. “I keep looking about me, expecting to meet her at any minute. You must miss her dreadfully, Grace.”

“I do miss her more than I can say,” replied Grace briefly. The haunting shadow lurked for an instant in her gray eyes, then she began to talk with forced vivacity of the coming revue.

But one pair of keen eyes had seen that shadow, and that pair of eyes belonged to J. Elfreda Briggs. “I wonder what ails Grace?” was her thought, “It’s something about Miss Wilder’s not being here, I’m pretty certain.” She resolved to make inquiries concerning the new dean and made an excuse to accompany Emma across the campus after luncheon, leaving Arline and Grace together.

“What’s the matter with Grace?” was her abrupt question the instant they had left Harlowe House behind them. “I could see that she wasn’t quite her old self at luncheon to-day.”

“I believe you ‘could see’ in the dark or with your eyes shut or even if you had no eyes,” teased Emma.

“Then there is something bothering her,” said Elfreda triumphantly. “I knew it.”

“Yes, there is. I wish I might tell you,” returned Emma slowly, “but I am in Grace’s confidence. It wouldn’t be a bad idea for you to ask her, though. If she would tell you, you might be able to suggest something helpful. I’ll just say this much. It’s very serious.”

“All right, I’ll ask her. If she tells me, I’ll talk things over with you afterward. If she doesn’t, then forget that I asked you about it.”

It was not until late that afternoon that she found her opportunity to question Grace. Arline had left her to make a call upon Myra Stone, now a senior, and Elfreda and Grace sat side by side on Grace’s favorite bench that stood under the giant elm at one end of the campus.

“Grace,” Elfreda’s matter-of-fact tones broke a brief silence that had fallen upon the two young women. “What has happened to hurt you?”

Grace started slightly. Her color receded, leaving her very pale. Then she said simply, “I suppose you ‘could see,’ Elfreda.”

“Yes; I’ve been ‘seeing’ ever since I came. I wish you would tell me about it. Perhaps I can help you.”

Grace shook her head. “No one can help me. I’ll just say this. Don’t be surprised at anything you may hear a little later. But please remember one thing, Elfreda. Whatever I have done since I became the manager of Harlowe House I have done always with the highest interests of my girls at heart.”

“I guess we all know that,” retorted Elfreda. “I’ll remember what you say, though. I’m sorry I can’t help you. You didn’t mind my asking, did you?”

“You know I didn’t. It was affection that prompted the question.” Grace reached out to pat her friend’s hand. J. Elfreda caught Grace’s hand in hers.

Again silence reigned. They sat gazing across the campus, their hands still joined. Grace was thinking that she could not endure telling even Elfreda of the cloud that hung over her, while J. Elfreda Briggs was registering a vow to find some means of helping Grace in spite of herself.

“I must go, Elfreda,” said Grace at last, rising from the seat. “I am anxious to have dinner over a little earlier to-night on account of the dress rehearsal in Greek Hall. Let me see, who is the person to be favored with your company at dinner?”

“I’m going to take dinner at Wayne Hall with Kathleen. We’ll meet at the dress rehearsal.” Elfreda rose, and the two sauntered across the campus to the point where their paths diverged.

After stopping for a little chat with Mrs. Elwood, Elfreda climbed the stairs to the room at the end of the hall, where she received a most vociferous welcome from Kathleen and Patience. But the moment they settled down to conversation Elfreda said solemnly, “Girls, something is breaking Grace Harlowe’s proud heart. Emma knows, but she is Grace’s only confidante. I asked Grace point blank, this afternoon, to tell me, but she wouldn’t. It has something to do with that Miss Wharton, the new dean. Whatever it is, you know, as well as I, that Grace isn’t likely to be in the wrong. If I were going to stay here at Overton, a little longer, I’d find out all about it.”

“You could see,” murmured Patience.

“Yes, I could,” declared Elfreda with a good-natured grin. “But so long as I can’t be here to see, I’m going to pass the job along to you, Kathleen. I’m sure that if any one can find out the cause of poor Grace’s woes it will be you. Go after it and run it down just as you would a big story, and if you can find and kill the wicked monster and make the princess happy again, well, there isn’t anything that J. Elfreda Briggs won’t do for you.”

“I’ll do it,” vowed Kathleen, setting her sharp little chin at a resolute angle.

“You can’t lose much time, either. College closes the second week in June,” reminded Elfreda.

“Trust me to find out before that time.”

Having disposed of this important matter, J. Elfreda’s gravity vanished and she became her usual funny self again. The three girls had a merry time together and set off for the dress rehearsal in high spirits.

When they reached Greek Hall they found that Grace and Arline had already arrived and were sitting far back in the hall watching a sextette of girls in smart white linen skirts, blue serge coats and straw hats, banded with blue ribbon, who were down on the programme for a song entitled “Our Fraternity Friends,” the number ending with a gay little dance taught them by Hilda Moore.

“Aren’t they clever?” asked Grace eagerly, turning to Kathleen. The three young women had made their way to where she was seated. “They only began practicing that dance last week. Miss Moore taught them. She dances beautifully.”

The rehearsal proceeded without a hitch. Arline and Elfreda, being sure of themselves, did not take part in it. Kathleen West’s clever one-act play, “In the Days of Shakespeare,” was worthy of her genius. It presented the scene from the “Taming of the Shrew,” where Petruchio ridicules Katherine’s gown and berates the tailor. This scene was enacted in accordance with the Elizabethan age, when the nobility were permitted to take seats on the stage with the actors, the latter being obliged to step around and over that part of the audience in order to make their entrances and exits. These favored nobles had also the privilege of expressing freely their opinions of the merits of the long-suffering mummers, which they usually did in a loud voice. Kathleen had made a careful study of the conditions prevailing in the theatre at that period, and the little play was most mirth provoking from beginning to end.

Mary Reynolds had also scored in the pathetic playlet, “The Freshman on the Top Floor,” depicting a lonely little girl whose poverty and diffidence kept her out of the carefree college life that went on in the house where she lived. Cecil Ferris essayed the role of the freshman.

The last number on the programme was Jean Brent’s solo. After considerable coaxing Louise had persuaded her to sing, and Gertrude Earle accompanied her on the piano. Grace felt her brief resentment against the girl vanish as she listened to her glorious voice which had a suspicion of tragedy in it.

There was a certain amount of lingering on the part of the performers to talk over the success of the dress rehearsal, but at last they all trooped across the campus to Harlowe House.

By curious chance Evelyn Ward found herself walking directly behind Jean Brent. She had been greatly affected by her singing. Obeying a sudden impulse, she leaned forward and touched Jean’s arm. “Can’t we be friends again, Jean,” she said wistfully. “I—I love your voice, and I care so much for you. There isn’t much of the year left and——”

Jean’s blue eyes grew strangely soft. “It was all my fault,” she said huskily. “Let’s begin over again, Evelyn.” And under the stars they made a new and truer covenant.