"Two more days, then good-bye to Overton," mourned Elfreda Briggs sadly.

The stout girl was seated on the floor, the contents of her trunk spread broadcast about her.

"Elfreda would like to stay here and study all summer," remarked Miriam slyly to Anne, who was watching Elfreda's movements with amused eyes.

"Oh, no, I wouldn't," retorted Elfreda good-naturedly. "I am as anxious to go home as the rest of you, but I'm sorry to leave here, too. What's the use in explaining?" she grumbled, catching sight of her friends' laughing faces. "You girls know what I mean, only you will tease me."

"Never mind, we won't tease It any more," said Miriam soothingly.

"There is only one thing you can do to convince me that you are in earnest," stipulated Elfreda.

"Name it," laughed Anne.

"Invite me to a banquet, and have cakes and lemonade," was the calm request.

"I thought you were strongly opposed to sweet things," commented Anne.

"Not at the sad, sorrowful end of the sophomore year," returned Elfreda, impressively. "Besides, lemonade isn't fattening."

"And it will be such splendid exercise for you to make it," added Miriam mischievously.

Elfreda looked disapprovingly at Miriam, then a broad smile illuminated her round face. "So nice of you to think about the exercise," she beamed affectedly. "Lead me to the lemons."

Miriam rose, took Elfreda by the arm, and leading her to the closet, pointed upward to the shelf. Elfreda grasped the paper bag with a giggle. Then Miriam led her calmly out again, just in time to encounter Grace, Mabel Ashe and Frances Marlton, who, in passing down the hall, had heard voices, and could not resist stopping for a moment.

"What is going on here?" asked Mabel curiously. "Why is J. Elfreda in leading strings?"

"She is taking exercise," replied Miriam gravely. "J. Elfreda, explain to the lady."

"This exercise is compulsory," grinned Elfreda. "No exercise, no lemonade. Of course, you will stay and have some."

"Of course," agreed Mabel. "I may not have a chance for a very long time to drink lemonade again with the Wayne Hallites."

"You mustn't say that," remonstrated Grace. "Remember, you are going to visit me at Oakdale. Elfreda is going to visit Miriam. Can't you can arrange to come, too, Frances?"

"I'm sorry," declared Frances, shaking her head, "but we are going to sail for Europe within a week after I reach home. I shall have to say good-bye in earnest on Thursday. But I'll write you, and make you a visit some time."

"How comfortingly definite. I'll see you again during the next hundred years," jeered Mabel.

"You know I don't mean that," reproached Frances.

chanted Elfreda as she peered into the lemonade pitcher.

"Precisely," laughed Frances. "Did you play 'Needle's eye' when you were a little girl, Elfreda?"

"Yes, and 'London Bridge' and 'King William was King James's son,' too. I always loved to play, but was hardly ever chosen because I was so fat and ungainly. I remember once, though, when I went to a children's party in a pale blue silk dress that made me look like a young mountain. I thought myself superlatively beautiful, however, and the rest of the little girls were so impressed that I was a great social triumph, and made up for the times when I had been passed by," concluded Elfreda humorously.

"Your adventures are worthy of recording and publishing," said Anne lightly. "Write a book and call it 'The Astonishing Adventures of Elfreda'."

The stout girl eyed Anne reflectively, the lemon squeezer poised in one hand. "That's a good idea," she said coolly. "I'll do it when I come back next fall. Now I'm not going to say another word until I finish this lemonade, so don't speak to me." When she left the room for ice water, Mabel Ashe observed warmly, "She is a credit to 19—, isn't she?"

"Yes," returned Grace. "They are beginning to find it out, too."

"Your sophomore days have been peaceful, compared with last year," remarked Frances Marlton. "Certain girls have kept strictly in the background."

"We have not been obliged to resort to ghost parties this year," reminded Mabel Ashe. "It requires ghosts to lay ghosts, you know."

Grace could have remarked with truth that certain ghosts had not been laid as effectually as she desired, but wisely keeping her own counsel she was about to essay a change of subject when the return of Elfreda with the lemonade served her purpose.

"'How can I bear to leave thee?'" quoted Mabel sentimentally, as she and Frances reluctantly rose to go half an hour later. "I hope you feel properly flattered. Graduates' attentions are at a premium this week. They ought to be, too, when one stops to think that it takes four years to reach that dizzy height of popularity. Four long years of slavish toil, my children. Observe my careworn air, my rapidly graying locks, my deeply-lined countenance."

"Yes, observe them," grinned Elfreda. "You look younger than Anne, and she looks like a mere chee—ild. Don't forget that you are going to send us pictures of you in your cap and gown, will you?" she added, looking affectionately at the two pretty seniors, whose help and kindly interest had meant much to her individually.

"We will see you to the door," laughed Grace, slipping her arm through Mabel's.

"Did you ever find the girl?" asked Mabel in a low tone. "You know the one I mean. I have often wondered about her."

"Yes," replied Grace in the same guarded tones. "I can't tell even you her name, but everything has been explained."

Mabel pressed Grace's arm in silent understanding. "Good-bye," she said, "we shall see you again before we leave Overton."

"You had better come into our room and finish the lemonade," declared Miriam, as they watched their guests go down the walk.

"But I haven't begun my packing yet, and I have so many things to do and so many girls to see that I ought not waste a minute."

"Time spent with us is never wasted," reminded Elfreda significantly.

"Quite true," responded Grace gaily. "I am sorry I had to be reminded. To prove my sorrow I will help you with your packing, when I ought to be doing my own."

"Come on, then," challenged Elfreda. She ran lightly up the stairs, her three friends at her heels.

"I'll pour the lemonade while you and Grace pack," volunteered Miriam.

"I choose to do nothing," said Anne lazily. "I am going to work all summer. I need a little rest now."

"You won't know where you are to be for the summer until Mr. Forest writes, will you?" asked Miriam.

"The Originals will be lonesome without you, Anne," mourned Grace. "You must be sure to visit me. That is, unless you are too far west."

"I am going to have a visitor of my own," announced Elfreda proudly. "You can never guess who it is."

"I know," laughed Anne, after a moment's reflection. "It is the Anar—Miss Atkins, I mean."

"Who told you?" demanded Elfreda. "It is true, though. She is coming to Fairview the last two weeks in July, and I am going to give her the time of her life. Just think, girls, she has never had any girl friends until she came here. Her mother died when she was a baby, and a prim old aunt kept house for them. Her father is Professor Archibald Atkins, that Natural Scientist who went to Africa and was held captive by a tribe of savages for two years.

"Living with the heathen didn't improve him, for when he came home he behaved so queerly that people thought him crazy. Then the aunt, who was the professor's sister, died, and poor Laura had to live alone with her father in a great big country house. Finally, she grew so tired of it she asked him to send her to college. She had always had a tutor, so she was ready for the entrance examinations, but she had never associated with other girls and didn't know much about them. I can't feel sorry enough for calling her names and imitating her. We had a long talk at Martell's the other night and I am going to be her knight errant from now on."

"You found the rainbow side of your sophomore year in helping some one else, didn't you, Elfreda?"

"I don't know what you are talking about," rejoined Elfreda bluntly.

"I know you don't," laughed Grace. "It was nothing much. Last year at this time Anne and I were lamenting because we couldn't be freshmen all over again, and Anne said that being a sophomore was sure to have its rainbow side."

"It has been the nicest year of my life," said Elfreda earnestly. "If being a junior is any nicer than being a sophomore—well—you will have to show me. There, I've ended by using slang. But I've found my rainbow side in another way, too."

"Name it," challenged Miriam mischievously.

"By losing twenty pounds," announced Elfreda, with proud triumph. "I weigh one hundred and forty pounds now, and next fall you will see me on the team, or it won't be my fault."

"I hope I shall have time for basketball," said Grace. "There will be so many other things. Remember, girls, if during vacation you think of any good plan for the Semper Fidelis Club to make money, make a note of it. Just because we have money in our treasury, we mustn't become lazy. We will find plenty of uses for every cent we can earn. There are dozens of girls struggling through Overton who need help."

"You never told us to what girls you and Arline played Santa Claus last winter, Grace," said Elfreda reproachfully.

"And I never will," laughed Grace, "and Arline won't tell, either."

"I know something, too," declared Elfreda, "but I'm not as stingy as Grace. I know who poked that envelope with the ten dollars in it under Grace's door."

"Who?" came simultaneously from the three girls.

"Mildred Taylor," replied Elfreda. "I saw her do it. I was just coming down the hall that night as she slipped it under the door and ran away. I never told any one, because I could see she didn't want any one to know she did it."

"Elfreda always sees more than appears on the surface," commented Miriam mischievously.

"Elfreda's energy has inspired me to go to my room and begin my own packing," declared Anne, rising.

"I'll go with you," volunteered Grace. "I think Elfreda can be trusted to finish her packing by herself."

"I think I'll accomplish more, at any rate," declared Elfreda pointedly.

"It is half over, Anne, dear," said Grace, almost wistfully, as they strolled down the hall, school girl fashion, their arms about each other's waists.

"Our life at Overton, you mean?" asked Anne.

Grace nodded. "I was sure I should never like college as well as high school, but I've found it even nicer."

"And we are going to like being juniors best of all," predicted Anne.

How completely the truth of Anne's prediction was proven will be found in "Grace Harlowe's Third Year at Overton College."

The End.