When quarter after three came and Ethel had not come to the room for Ruth, she thought there must be something wrong.

“It may take longer than they expected,” she kept telling herself over and over, as she tried to fasten her attention on the letter she was writing to her aunt.

Then, gradually she became aware of a stir outside the door. The girls were returning in groups. She could hear their footsteps and even their voices plainly, for she had left the door open a crack to hear Ethel’s step in case she should come.

And then the realization came over her that it was all over, and that she had not been asked! Could it be true? Ruth suddenly felt weak. Nothing mattered now. How would she ever tell the folks at home? She had written so much about the girls, and the sorority; she would be ashamed to tell them she had lost out.

At that moment, she heard a group of girls stop in front of the door next to hers, and the freshman who lived there, and who had been lying down all afternoon with a sick headache, came out into the hall.

“Who were asked?” Ruth heard her inquire.

And then she listened to the names—names among which hers was not included. Her head positively swam, as the other freshman answered, “Doris Sands, Anna Cane, Mae VanHorn, and Marjorie Wilkinson!”

Ruth did not listen to the description of the proceedings that followed. “Marjorie Wilkinson!” she muttered, and buried her face in the sofa pillow, and wept.

In Lily Andrews’s room, a similar scene was taking place. She had retired there soon after lunch with a magazine and her ever-present box of chocolates, and had left the door open and waited. Once or twice she had perched herself upon the window sill to watch developments in the garden, and at one of these times she had witnessed Frances Wright approach and claim Doris Sands. Then she had gone back to her chair and waited.

In about fifteen minutes she thought she was rewarded. Her heart beat fast as she heard footsteps approach her door and stop; then a knock sounded on the half-open door. Trembling, she answered, “Come!”

It was Ethel Todd!

But Lily’s hopes were to fall as quickly as they had arisen. Ethel apologized for the interruption.

“I’m sorry to bother you, Lily; but can you tell me where to find Marjorie?”

“Yes, she must have gone over to the gym to help Miss Phillips make out her records.”

Ethel thanked her, and went out. Lily, like Ruth, wept; but there was no bitterness in her tears, only disappointment. “If I couldn’t make it myself,” she sobbed, “I’d rather have Marjorie get it than any other girl.”

Meanwhile the four freshmen were taken into the senior member’s room, where absolute darkness prevailed. They were commanded to sit upon the floor, and sat down on something very soft, which they afterwards discovered to be flour.

In a hollow voice, one of the Juniors read:

“Proclamation of the F?? Sorority, October 30th, 1920—

“Be it understood that Doris Sands, Anna Cane, Mae VanHorn, and Marjorie Wilkinson are hereby pledged as members of the F?? Sorority. They must submit themselves to all rules of the sorority, and keep everything absolutely secret. If they comply with these terms, they shall, in three weeks’ time, be initiated as regular members. Will you hereby sign your acceptance of these terms?”

The freshmen were handed a large book; each girl signed, and a seal was made after her name. Then they were blindfolded and put through two or three initiation stunts.

By four o’clock, the proceedings were over, and refreshments were served. Each girl was presented with a tiny silver pledge-pin which she wore on the left side of her shirtwaist.

When all was over, Marjorie went back to her room almost dazed. It seemed impossible that she could not go tell Ruth about it—why, Ruth hadn’t made it—she must be unhappy! And poor Lily! Surely she didn’t expect to make it—and yet—well, she would do her best to console her.

She was hardly inside the room, and had just noticed Lily lying on her couch in tears, when Mae VanHorn ran up to her.

“Oh, Marjorie,” she said, “do come out for a walk with me. I’m simply dying to talk it over with somebody. Besides, I have to get away from my room-mate (Mae roomed with Evelyn); she’s so blue I can’t stand her company!”

Marjorie glanced at Lily. “Thanks, Mae,” she said, “but I can’t leave Lily; she’s been alone all afternoon.” Mae pouted and stood still.

“Marjorie,” she said, “why couldn’t you and I fix it up to room together? Evelyn and Lily might as well be together.”

Lily looked up, frightened. Evelyn Hopkins had treated her more rudely than any other girl in the school, with the possible exception of Ruth; so the prospect was not a pleasant one for her.

But Marjorie shook her head. “Thank you, Mae,” she said, “but I want to stay with Lily.”

Lily jumped up. “Marjorie,” she said between her sobs, “if you want to room with Mae, you do it—I’ll manage somehow!”

Marjorie went over and put her arm around her.

“No, dear,” she said, “I don’t want to room with anybody but you. Now, Mae, won’t you sit down?”

“No; I think I’ll go look for Doris. Good-bye!”

“Good-bye!” answered Marjorie.

“I’m so glad you made it, Marjorie,” said Lily, drying her eyes.

“Thank you, Lily, I really believe you are. And it makes it ever so much nicer for me. But I want you to know that except for the meetings and parties, I’m never going to leave you for the sorority girls.”

They talked for a while, going over the events of the afternoon. Lily started to dress for supper. Suddenly turning to Marjorie, she said:

“I’ve made a new resolution. From to-day on, I give up candy and sweets between meals. And I’m going to practice for full-back on the team. Do you think there’s any chance of my making it?”

“Splendid!” exclaimed her room-mate. “Yes, there is no one to substitute for Mildred Warren, in case she gets sick. And Lily, couldn’t you go out for swimming? Each class is supposed to have six girls on the team; and positively, our class is awful!”

“Yes, I’ll try,” said Lily, “but I don’t believe I could ever learn to swim.”

“Of course you could!” said Marjorie; and the two girls linked arms, and went down into the dining-room together.

After supper, Lily went over to another freshman’s room to study French, so Marjorie slipped out and went to see Ruth. She found her alone.

“Hulloa!” said Ruth, unenthusiastically. “Won’t you sit down?”

“Thanks,” said Marjorie, accepting her invitation.

They discussed lessons and hockey, and finally Ruth came to the topic that was uppermost in both their minds.

“How does it feel to be an F???” she asked. “I’m not!”

“What?” asked Ruth, excitedly. A vain hope that Marjorie had turned down her bid ran through her mind.

“I’m only pledged,” said Marjorie. “We’re not going to be taken in till just before Thanksgiving. Lots of things might happen between then and now.”

“Have you written home yet?”

“No, of course not; there hasn’t been time.”

“I should think you would have written the minute you got back to your room.”

“No, there was too much to explain. I never told the family much about the sorority, because I didn’t expect to make it!”

“I wish I hadn’t told them so much,” sighed Ruth. “They won’t understand why I failed.”

“To tell you the truth, I don’t either, Ruth,—why they ever decided on me instead of you or Evelyn is a mystery to me!”

“It was your indifference, Marjorie. They had to run after you. It was a clever stroke on your part.”

Marjorie flushed angrily. “Clever stroke!” she exclaimed. “I never thought a thing about it. I was too crazy about hockey—and Miss Phillips!”

“Well, now I suppose you won’t care to keep up our old friendship,” said Ruth. “I just told Lily, and I’ll tell you—it won’t make one bit of difference between my friends and me because I belong to the sorority.”

Ruth drew herself up proudly. “You needn’t class me with Lily Andrews—and go with me out of pity! I won’t stand for that!”

“Don’t, Ruth! Please! But I do care for Lily for her own sake. She’s going to make a dandy girl, only her parents have brought her up all wrong. When she begins to lose some of her laziness, and dress decently, and be interested in something besides herself and her father’s money—why, you’ll see that there’s really a lot to Lily. She’s so loyal, and so affectionate!”

“I suppose you’ll be trying to get her into F??,” jeered Ruth.

“You know I can’t do that. The charter limits the membership to four in each class.”

“I wish I could start a rival club,” observed Ruth.

“You can’t,” said Marjorie, “because the faculty have set their foot down against any more secret societies.”

“I always thought you didn’t approve of them at all, Marj!” This was said with a malicious little twinkle in her eyes.

“I hardly think I do, but I can’t tell yet. Wait till we’ve been here a year or two, and have had a chance to observe things.”

Marjorie rose to go. “It’s time to study,” she said. “I just wanted to run in and see you for a little while. Ruth,” she lowered her voice, “please don’t be discouraged. There’s a great deal more to school than being a sorority member!”

Ruth turned away. “I tell you I don’t want your sympathy, Marj.”

“I’ll never mention it again,” agreed the other, as she stood with her hand on the door. “And Ruth, I’ll look for you at hockey-practice to-morrow! Good night!”

“Good night,” mumbled Ruth.