Thanksgiving Day dawned without the tiniest streak of sunlight to grace it. Early in the morning heavily overcasted clouds began emptying their cold dispiriting torrents of rain upon a brown and soggy earth.

Safe within the cheerful walls of Castle Dean Marjorie’s delight in being at home was dampened by the thought of how Robin Page and her volunteer entertainment committee were battling against such a dreary day. She could only hope that the steady persistency of the Sanford downpour was not repeating itself at Hamilton. True she and Robin had planned their program to cover that possible calamity. Bad weather could not fail to make it harder for Robin, Phil and Barbara to keep things moving with the energy and smoothness so necessary as a means toward uniting the interests and the sympathies of the students of the various campus houses with those of the dormitory girls.

While Marjorie, Leila, Vera and Jerry were cosily ensconced in the Deans’ living room lamenting over the bad weather, Robin Page, Phil Moore and Barbara Severn were holding a serious consultation of three in Robin’s room.

“It’s after ten o’clock now Phil,” Robin was saying. “Really, I think I’d better brave the rain, go over to the garage and run Vera’s car into town. Anna said yesterday that there were only two busses running on the new bus line. There were three, but one has been taken away to another route. Seventy-two girls will crowd two busses. Suppose anything should happen to either of the two? I told Anna to get the crowd to the inn by half past twelve. It will take longer to run out from town in the pouring rain. We mustn’t be a minute late at the inn.”

“I’m very well aware of that, sweet coz,” Phil returned in her bantering fashion. “Far be it from me to allow the gang to be late and disarrange the well-laid plans of Guiseppe.”

“If you intend to paddle out in this deluge and play duck, count me in,” Barbara made valiant announcement.

“You can’t lose me, either,” Phil decided. “Slave, bring me my raincoat, my faithful Tam and my goloshes! Out in the tempest I must go!” She struck a dramatic posture, held it a moment, then said disappointedly: “I fail to see anyone around here who answers to the name of slave. I’ll have to be it myself.”

Ten minutes later the three, with raincoats buttoned to the chin, caps drawn low, high-buckled goloshes on their feet, the largest umbrellas they could find over their heads, were plodding through the rain to the garage which housed Vera’s car. The latter had urged Robin to make use of it during her absence. Leila’s, unfortunately, was laid up for repairs.

“Some of the dormitory girls were going to walk to the campus today. Just imagine!” Phil said ironically to Barbara. The two, seated in the tonneau of the car, watched the drenched landscape through the half-opened curtains as the machine fled along the pike.

“Wade would be more appropriate,” laughed Barbara. “But they’ve changed their minds long before now. Deliver me from any more walks in this flood. I don’t envy Robin her job of chauffeur.”

“We’re making good time.” Phil inspected her wrist watch with a satisfied nod. “We ought to be at the place on Linden Avenue where the busses make their stand by ten minutes past eleven. What time are the dormitory girls to be at the stand?” She leaned forward and called out her question in Robin’s ear.

“Half past eleven,” Robin raised her voice above the beat of the pelting rain, but did not turn her head.

“They’ll have to mob the corner drug store nearest the stand. They can’t stay out on the walk with the rain coming down in cataracts,” commented Phil. “Anna Towne can be depended upon to have them at the bus stand on time. Such a horrible flivver for a holiday! I don’t dare stop to think of it,” she grumbled.

Her guess regarding their speedy arrival at the bus stand was an accurate one. It was precisely ten minutes past eleven when Robin brought the car to a stop before the drug store. The rain was still driving down in misty sheets as the trio emerged from the automobile and made a frantic dash across the sidewalk to the shelter of the drug store. Immediately afterward Anna Towne and half a dozen of her intimate friends arrived, radiant-faced in spite of the storm.

“This is a surprise,” Anna greeted. She shook hands with the three hardy Travelers as though it had been a long time instead of only yesterday since she had seen them. “The rest of the crowd will soon be here. I managed to telephone all of them this morning to be at the stand at eleven-fifteen instead of eleven-thirty. Then we’ll surely be ready to start at exactly eleven-thirty. The bus drivers are so disobliging. They are hired specially to bring us to and from the campus yet they never want to wait a second beyond a certain time for us to assemble. They’re not supposed to carry any passengers but us during those trips. But they do. I say this, not by way of complaining, Robin, I object to their unfairness. A great difference between those Italians and Signor Baretti, isn’t there? I think he is wonderfully kind to remember the off-campus girls in such a generous way.” Anna’s pale, interesting face brightened with appreciation.

“Signor Baretti has true college spirit,” Robin returned with conviction. “I can’t imagine those two grumpy bus drivers as imbued with any such noble quality; or that Italian, Sabani, the man they work for. If those two kickers show any signs of grouchiness this morning I shall read them a Thanksgiving lecture. It won’t be the kind to feel thankful for, either. By the way, where are they? I ordered them to be here at eleven and stay here until told to start for the inn.”

Involuntarily the group of girls moved nearer one of the huge plate-glass show windows to peer, bright-eyed, into the rain-swept street. As far as they could see, up and down the street, there were no signs of the large dark red busses with their flashy yellow trimmings.

“It’s eighteen minutes past eleven,” Phil’s tones conveyed her consternation. “Where can those aggravating busses be?”

“Not where they should be,” scolded Robin. “Here comes a big crowd of the girls. The busses should be here so that they could step directly into them. They’ll have to come into the drug store instead. Maybe the druggist will object to sheltering us. There’ll be enough dripping umbrellas to flood the store. Oh, dear what a mess! Why did it have to go and rain on Thanksgiving Day? And where, oh, where, are those miserable drivers and their busses?”