The Glee Club practice was a great success. Voices had been “tried out” previously, and the girls whose singing was up to the requirement were happy, beginning to look forward to the trips which they hoped to have.

“Personally,” said Hilary, “I think that the trip to Grant Academy is a myth. There hasn’t been any since I’ve been here, and I haven’t any idea that Miss Randolph will let us go. Of course, we could give a little entertainment at one of the churches in Greycliff Village.”

“I forgot to tell you what Miss Randolph said to me,” said Cathalina. “I went in to see if she thought I’d better go into the Glee Club, and she said she thought I’d enjoy it. I asked her if we were to have any trips and she smiled as if she had been asked that before! Then she said that she thought we should have a big concert here and invite the academy boys and teachers over, also the Greycliff Village people. We’d charge a small admission fee.”

“I thought that she wouldn’t want us to go there,” said Betty.

“Why not?” asked Avalon.

“Oh, just the idea of girls going to give an entertainment in a boys’ school. But we are going to the military reception, I guess. That is different. We are their guests and will be chaperoned properly by our dear teachers, you know.”

“I can’t see the difference,” said Avalon. “We’d be chaperoned all right if we gave our entertainment.”

“Surely we would. Oh, I don’t know why it is different, but it is.”

Society lines were forgotten as the notes of the first chorus filled the chapel where they practiced this time. The sopranos reached their high notes successfully, and the altos came in at the proper place. Opponents in the Emerson and Whittier societies sang peacefully from the same sheet of music. And on the morrow there were delivered to sundry suites and various individuals the senior society invitations!

The girls were almost afraid to inquire about whether their friends had received invitations or not. There was little said publicly, but much discussion in private in regard to what action to take, and on the part of those who had received two invitations, which of the two rival societies to choose.

There was a solemn conclave in the suite where Cathalina sat considering, with two invitations on her lap, and the other suite-mates, similarly engaged, were in different parts of the room. Hilary was in the window seat looking out of the window and was just remarking that she did not want to decide finally till she heard about some of the other girls, when Eloise came in and said, “What are you girls going to do about the societies?”

“Just thinking it over, Eloise,” replied Lilian. “What invitations did you girls receive?”

“Helen and I got both of them, but Pauline and Juliet only had invitations from the Whittiers. It was funny, because they invited us all to their party, you know.”

“You never can tell why girls do things, or don’t do ’em,” remarked Betty.

“Why, Betty, how can you so malign your sex!”

“‘Varium et mutabile semper femina,’” quoted Hilary. “But Vergil must have had some unfortunate love affair if he thought woman a ‘fickle and changeable thing.’”

“Women do change their minds,” said Betty, “but that is much better when you find you were wrong than to stick to your old first opinion, right or wrong. Mother had a funny experience with a dentist who wanted to pull a tooth which she wanted to save. She had him almost persuaded, she thought, but he said, ‘You wouldn’t want me to go back on what I said I wouldn’t do, would you?’ ‘Not for the world,’ said she, and went to another dentist who saved the tooth all right.”

“Do you consider him an example of his sex?” said Lilian with a laugh.

“No, not really, I guess. Still, I don’t know but you’d find as many stubborn men as fickle women.”

“I don’t think you can put them all in a class like that,” observed Eloise. “I know stubborn girls and fickle boys.”

“Let’s hurry up and decide on the society affairs, and leave our wise considerations about the human race till another time.”

“All right, Hilary,” said Betty. “Do you know, Eloise, about Evelyn and Diane?”

“Helen has just gone down to see what happened there. I think she’ll be back in a minute.”

“All of us were invited by the Whittiers,” said Hilary. “I like them best, anyhow.”

“There’s Helen now, I think,” said Eloise. “Come in.”

Helen and Diane entered. “Having a debate?” asked Diane.

“Not much of a debate. We were wondering how it was with your suite.”

“The funniest thing—Dorothy and Jane are invited by the Emersons and not by the Whittiers, and Evelyn and I by the Whittiers and not by the Emersons. So that splits us up.”

“Again I remark that we all are invited by the Whittiers, and that I like them the best,” said Hilary.

“The respective merits of the two societies do not seem to have much to do with our decision, do they?” contributed Lilian.

“No, Lilian,” replied Hilary, “for the very good reason that both societies do good work in a literary way, have good programs and work hard on the annual debate. I always thought that the Whittiers have a more solid class of girls as a rule. The Emersons take in a lot of social butterflies——”

“Be careful how you say ‘butterflies,’ Hilary. Remember the Psyche Club!”

“That’s a different kind of butterfly, Betty. But I was going to say that they have a larger number always and probably average up with as much real talent. So the main thing to me is to be with you girls. If there is any rivalry, I want to be on the same side as the rest of you.”

“We’ll get along all right with Dorothy and Jane—we’ll just leave society discussions out!”

“Oh, yes, Diane; it isn’t so terribly important, after all.”

The girls of the two suites, then, with Diane and Evelyn, were among those who decided on the Whittier Society. Their acceptances were received with great joy, there was much coming and going of senior collegiate girls, and great plans were made for the initiation. It was all very different from the starting of the Shakespearean Society in the academy the year before. Now they were among the older girls of the school, intimates of the senior collegiates, putting up their hair and wearing the same styles! And on the day of the society decision, Cathalina received two interesting letters, one on the Grant Academy stationery and the other, big and fat, inscribed in a dashing masculine hand. They came on the afternoon mail, which the girls received too late to read before they made ready for dinner, and after that meal there was great silence and reading of letters in the suite.

“If I had known what mail awaited little me,” said Cathalina, “I would not have been able to stay away so long before dinner.”

“But we had such a good time on the beach,” said Betty, opening her second letter. “I’m dying to know from whom that fattest letter came.”

“So am I,” added Lilian, mischievously. “I don’t seem to recognize the handwriting.”

Cathalina’s mouth curved into a smile as she read on. “Don’t worry, I’ll tell you,” said she. “There is no secret. I didn’t recognize the writing, either, though I’ve seen it often enough.”

“I know who it is, then,” said Betty—“Bob Paget, because he would write to Phil.”

“Go to the head, Betty. It’s Bob; such a nice, friendly letter! And he is telling me all about their doings at college, things I can’t pry out of Phil!”

“Isn’t it funny about brothers?” remarked Betty, not expecting a reply.

“They won’t take time to write you in detail,” said Lilian, “and when you are with them at home it is old to them. But we used to hear some good tales from Dick.”

“Yes, we do, too,” acknowledged Cathalina, “but Phil never took the pains to write me a long letter like this.”

“Of course not,” said Betty. “But look at that long one that Lilian has. I’m perfectly sure that it is from Mr. Philip Van Buskirk, Junior.”

Lilian began on another sheet, putting out her hand in protest at Betty.

“Shh-sh, girls,” immediately said Betty; “it’s getting serious. She can’t be interrupted!”

“You crazy Betty,” exclaimed Lilian, turning a laughing face on the girls. “Hilary, come to the rescue!” But Hilary was deep in a letter of her own and looked up upon hearing her name with such a dazed expression that Cathalina and Betty were all the more amused.

“Can’t you see, Lilian, that Hilary doesn’t even know what we are talking about. She is back on the shores of the blue Kennebec with Campbell. Probably the boys all decided to get their letters written up and went at it at the same time.”

“That was it,” said Cathalina. “I can just see Bob coming in and hear him say, ‘Writing letters to the girls, boys? I’ll have to write to poor Cathalina.’”

“That is a very fine theory, Miss Van Buskirk!” said Betty, opening a letter from home.

“Wait till you get a letter from Donald,” said Cathalina. “Then we’ll see what remarks the rest of us can make.”

“All right,” said Betty. “Have you opened your letter from the academy?”

Then Cathalina did blush a little, having hoped that the note from Captain Van Horne would escape comment. “Not yet,” she said.

“I’m horrid,” said Betty, repentantly. “It isn’t even polite to make such personal remarks. My good spirits do carry me away!”

“You’re forgiven,” said Cathalina, “on condition that you let us read on in peace.”

Silence descended on the room for a space. Then Lilian rose and went into the bedroom which she shared with Hilary. Betty remarked that she was going to hunt up Diane and left. Cathalina asked Hilary if she would like to read “Bob’s letter,” and passed it over. Hilary read and commented. “He writes a good letter, doesn’t he? It is full of fun, but very well expressed. I like Robert Paget. Did you ever wonder whether he were not related to Helen?”

“I never even thought of the names being the same. Isn’t that just like me?”

“I hadn’t thought of it till I got back to school and saw Helen again. But I have forgotten to ask her.”

“They are not from the same place, but are both from the South and might easily be cousins. Helen hasn’t any brother, I think. I never heard her mention one, at least; but I pay so little attention sometimes to family relations that she might have half a dozen relatives that I wouldn’t know about.”

“My letter was from Campbell,” said Hilary. “The college news in it is about covered by the news in this of Bob’s. Shall I let Lilian read Bob’s letter?” Lilian had just come out to join them, after reading Philip’s letter once more all by herself!

“Oh, this is a lovely letter. Phil’s news was about the same, but he had heard from my brother and was rejoicing, very kindly, about the North decision to go to New York.”

“Really, Lilian?” asked Cathalina, in delight.

“Yes, I just read more about it in Mother’s letter. I can’t believe it! But Mother says that Father has actually decided to leave the old town. It is largely on Dick’s account. Father and Dick will go into the firm with Father’s old friend. That means an established law business, of course.”

“When will they go?”

“Mother says that Father wants to hurry it up now, after waiting so many years, and she has no peace about taking their time to go over everything from attic to cellar, as she wants to do. Father says ‘make a clearance,’ and she has already begun on the attic, where there is everything stored, from Dick’s cradle and my high chair to stacks of all the magazines from the year One.”

The girls were listening with great interest, Cathalina especially delighted at the thought of having Lilian in New York. “Think of it, Lil! You can have all kinds of music lessons and hear the things you like and we can be together so much. I wish you were coming to New York, too, Hilary.”

But Hilary was not feeling left out. She always rejoiced in the good fortune of others. Besides, wasn’t Campbell in Cathalina’s family? This last letter of a young man who was at least a very firm friend. “No telling,” said she. “Remember that I’m the daughter of a minister, and there isn’t any telling where we may go!”

“What else did your mother say?” asked Cathalina of Lilian.

“Not much more about New York, only that she hoped they could find comfortable quarters without much trouble. Poor Mother! I ought to be home to help look over things with her. But she will hire plenty of help for the hard work. She says that Father wants to be settled in New York by Christmas. I don’t know what to think of that. I’m crazy to go to live there, but I didn’t expect not to be able to say goodbye to the folks in the old town.”

“Goodbyes are awful,” said Cathalina. “You can visit them. Why, this just takes my breath with joy. Come on, let’s go and celebrate and tell the girls or something. The bell hasn’t rung for study hours.”

“Oh, it won’t be time for that for a long while,” said Hilary. “Wait till I see if there’s anybody in the other suite, and if they are out we’ll go and hunt up Betty and Diane.”

There was no one at home in the suite mentioned. Hilary, Lilian and Cathalina flew down the stairs and out upon the broad stones of the big porch. “I see them,” said Hilary, “walking up toward the little wood, look.”

Diane, Evelyn, Betty and Helen were together. “Hoo-hoo!” called Hilary, and the girls stopped. “We want to tell you the latest news,” said Cathalina, a little out of breath. “The Norths are going to move to New York, and I’ve just been wondering, too, Helen, if one of the friends that my brother brings home once in a while is not related to you. He lives in Richmond and his name is Robert Paget. I don’t know why I was so stupid not to connect the names before.”

“Bob Paget of Richmond? Well, I should think we are related, only first cousins!”

“Good. You should have been at our house party. I wanted to have all you other girls that were at camp as it was, but the automobile trip and the size of the car limited it this time. We’ll have another one.”

“You need not make any apologies, Cathalina. We all understood how it was. I haven’t seen anything of Robert for some time, but they say that he is quite a fine fellow.”

“I had such a bright letter from him today. He is at college with my brother and cousin, you know, and is a great chum of my brother’s. And here we are just finding it out! I’ll let you read the letter when we go back.”

“All right, I’d love to see it. By the way, when do you suppose the societies will have their initiations?”

“Very soon; next Friday, I think. I don’t know what they do, but the collegiates always seemed to have so much fun over it, and the girls would never tell what happened.”