Although Elizabeth was as careful as possible, her moving to and fro between the two rooms awakened Jean, who, after wishing her good-morning, offered to arise and help unpack.

"No, Miss Cabot," replied Elizabeth, "it's only five o'clock; please don't think of getting up yet. I am used to rising early, for I've been up every morning all summer at five. I'm sorry to have disturbed you. Can't you get to sleep again? You know I'm to wait on table this year and Mrs. Thompson wishes me to be in the dining-room at seven to help in setting the table. I thought I would unpack my trunk and suit-case before breakfast, for there will be so much for me to do to-day I probably won't have another opportunity. If you will tell me where to put things I can get right at work now. Would you mind if I called you by your first name, it seems so strange to say 'Miss' to the girl I'm to live with all the year? My name is Elizabeth."

Instantly Jean arose and put on a white silk kimona, splashed with great pink roses, slipped her feet into some dainty pink silk quilted slippers and then led the way into the study, where she sat down in the only empty chair. "Why, of course I want you to call me by my first name, Elizabeth; it's Jean. How do you like the arrangement of the rooms so far? My cousin and two of the juniors helped me with it. It looks very bare, but we bought a lot of things in town yesterday and as soon as they are sent out we can finish settling. That is your desk and bookcase and here is your clothes closet. I borrowed one or two of your hooks, for I couldn't seem to find room enough in my own closet. I'll take the dresses down now and put them back in the trunk."

"Oh, please don't, Jean; all my dresses together won't fill the hooks on one side of the closet. You're welcome to this whole side."

"Thank you. Now you can put your pictures and banners anywhere you choose. We want to make our room as attractive as possible so our friends will be glad to come and see us."

"I'm afraid I haven't many attractive things for the room. I didn't know much about college girls' rooms, and besides if I had known I couldn't have brought them. Father is only a country doctor and could hardly afford to send me to college at all. It will be a struggle to go through the four years, but I mean to do it if hard work counts.

"I've never known a real mother, for two years after mother's death my father married again when I was six and Brother four. Since then we've had a home and that's about all as far as a mother's concerned. Father is away most of the time and doesn't know all that happens during his absence, but we know and never can forget. Fathers don't seem to understand children very well. Perhaps Brother and I have been more to each other than most brothers and sisters, for we had to make up for all that we missed in others. That's the hardest thing for me in coming to Ashton—to leave Brother at home sick with the fever. He means to go to college, too, sometime, and after two years here I hope to be able to teach at home and help him with his education. I don't know why I'm telling you all this, for I guess it doesn't interest you at all."

"Yes, it does, Elizabeth, for my mother is dead, too, and I have five brothers and the best father in all the world, and I'm here to please them, but you can believe I'm going back to them after one year of it."

"What! You could go four years and graduate if you wanted to, and instead you're only going freshman year? Why, I'd give everything in the world if I could go through the four years. I've thought of asking permission to take extra work this year and next, and then if anything should happen that I could come back a third year I could do the four years' work in three and graduate. I want a college diploma so much I'll do anything to get it. But if it's a question of Brother's giving up a year or of my doing so, it will not be he, for it seems as though he were always the one to make the sacrifice.

"Have you decided what you are to take this year? There are so many things I want to take I hardly know what to choose. Tell me your programme. Wouldn't it be fine if we had the same courses, then we could study together?"

"I'm going to take as little as I can, for I hate studying. I think my cousin Nan has made me out too stiff a programme and I'll have to drop something before I flunk out. I want to keep up my music, anyway, and practising does take a lot of time. Besides, I have English and mathematics and German and French and of course oratory and gym, because they're snap courses."

"I shall take Latin instead of your French, but the other subjects are what I want, too. In place of your music I'd like some history, for that's my favorite study. I've read everything I could lay my hands on in the history line and never could get half enough. I've longed for the college library with its rows upon rows of books. If ever I'm missing, be sure to look for me in the library. Do you suppose my being a day late will make any difference with my work?"

"No, child, for all we did yesterday was to register and pass in our programmes. You sent them word that you were delayed at home by sickness in the family and won't be fined, but ordinarily when we fail to register on time we are fined five dollars. To-day we are to go to the classes which usually meet on Friday. I have mathematics at nine and German at ten, and probably you will be in the same divisions. It's mighty hard to think of studying these glorious days. How I'd enjoy a twenty-mile horseback ride over the hills this morning! I wonder where I could hire a horse and if any of the other girls ride."

"Why! you wouldn't cut your recitations the very first day, would you, Jean?"

"No, I suppose not, but I'd like to mighty well. Don't be surprised at anything I ever do. Sometimes I fear I can't stand this living by rules and regulations. I've always done just what I wanted to and when I wanted to, and I shall probably forget to ask permission to do things, especially of other girls. I'm not so sure that I approve of student government."

"Why, it seems to me the fairest way, and I'm sure you will like it after you become used to it. Now that I've finished unpacking I think I'll just write a few lines to Brother, for he'll be waiting very impatiently for my first letter. Can't you go to sleep again?"

"No, I think I'll write letters, too. I haven't had a minute before, and I promised Tom and father faithfully that I'd write to them." And soon the two girls were writing as though their life depended upon it, and did not stop until the rising bell sounded. Elizabeth was as startled as Jean had been on the previous morning, but it did not take long to explain it to her. Soon she started downstairs for her duties in the dining-room, but hesitated a little and said, "Jean, may I go to chapel with you this morning?"

"Yes, we freshmen in the house agreed last night to go together; our seats are to be in the right aisle directly back of the sophs. They say ours is the largest entering class on record, so some of us may have to sit in the annex. Let's go by a quarter-past eight, anyway, so as to be in the main chapel. After chapel exercises I'll take you to the office and help you with your registration."

When the seven freshmen from Merton walked up to chapel, six of them felt very green indeed, but Jean held her head high and displayed her usual composure. But when they took their places with the other three classes and at a given signal rose while the hundred or so seniors in cap and gown marched slowly down the center aisle to their seats on the left, Jean felt for the first time the insignificance of a freshman and wondered just how it would seem to be a senior.

Miss Emerson welcomed the incoming class in such a way that Jean felt drawn to her at once. She was not at all what she had pictured a college president to be, and there was something so sweet and lovable about her that Jean thought she came nearer to the mother she had always pictured to herself than anybody else she had ever seen. Most of the faculty seats were occupied, and Jean noticed that many of the professors were young and good-looking in spite of their degrees and reputed knowledge.

After chapel Jean and Elizabeth hastened to the registrar's office and Elizabeth was enrolled as a freshman. Just as they were leaving the building two seniors in cap and gown stopped them and one of them said, "This is Miss Cabot and her room-mate, Miss Fairfax, is it not? I am Miss Wright and this is Miss Farnsworth. We would like to invite you to be our special guests at the senior reception to the freshmen and faculty on a week from Monday evening in the Gym. You live in Merton, I believe? We will call for you there at about half-past eight."

The two freshmen were glad to accept the invitation, and after a few general remarks about recitations the seniors hurried away.

"Jean, did you notice the little star-shaped pins both of those seniors wore on their shirtwaists? What are they for?"

"I suppose they must be their society pins. Societies are like fraternities in the men's colleges. They are secret organizations, and about twenty-five girls belong to each one. I don't know much about them except what Tom told me."

"Oh," said Elizabeth, "I should like to join one, wouldn't you?"

"I guess it isn't for us to say, Elizabeth. You see, the girls are very particular whom they ask, and only a few are chosen from each class."

"Oh, you'll be chosen, Jean; you needn't worry about that."

"I'm not so sure about it. I suppose it will soon be time for mathematics. O dear, how I dread it! Your division doesn't meet to-day, does it? You ought to be thankful for that. I'm going upstairs now to see where Room 21 is. Good-by; see you later."

At the top of the stairs she met Marjorie Remington, who stopped her. "Oh, Miss Cabot, have you received your invitation to the freshman reception yet?"

"Yes, Miss Wright and Miss Farnsworth just stopped Elizabeth and me downstairs and invited us to go with them."

"Oh, you should feel much honored, for they are two of the most popular girls in the senior class, and Miss Wright is class president. But I think the reception is an awful bore, just standing around and meeting a lot of girls and faculty you don't care anything about, and dancing in between times. Still a freshman makes a big mistake to cut it, and I advise you to go.

"What's your first recitation—can I take you to the class room? There's the bell now. But wait a minute. Here comes a girl I want you to meet. It's Lill Spalding, sophomore basket-ball captain and one of the nicest girls in North Hall. I've invited her in town with us to-morrow."

The three girls became so interested in their plans for the following day that Mathematics I. was almost forgotten, and when Marjorie remembered she was to show Jean the room it was fully five minutes after the hour.

Stopping before a door marked "21" Marjorie said, "Here it is, and Miss Hooper is in charge. Oh, she's fierce; I pity you. I had Miss Baldwin, who's a regular cinch. I'll meet you here at the end of the hour if you like."

As Jean entered the room Miss Hooper was just reading the class list and she heard "Miss Cabot" ring out distinctly in the stillness of the large room.

"Here," said Jean, and she sank into the only vacant chair in the front row directly in front of the desk.

Miss Hooper paused, looked up quickly from her class book and said sharply, "Five minutes late. A very bad beginning, Miss Cabot; remember hereafter, please, that this class meets promptly at nine o'clock."

It was on Jean's tongue to say that she had lost her way, but something restrained her. Miss Hooper explained that the work of the year would be divided into three parts, algebra the first third of the year, geometry the second, and trigonometry the last. The class were to use Wells's College Algebra, which they could buy at the college book-store. The first lesson would be the problems on page 47.

"And now, class, let us spend the rest of the hour reviewing a little. Miss Cabot, you may explain what is meant by the 'binomial theorem.'"

Poor Jean tried to collect her scattered senses enough to answer the question. She remembered there was such a thing as this binomial theorem, but what it was she could not have told had her life depended upon it. After waiting as long as she dared she answered in a low voice, "I do not know." Miss Hooper looked annoyed and repeated the question to Miss Caldow, next on the list, who, to Jean's disgust, jumped on her feet and recited glibly and entirely to Miss Hooper's satisfaction.

"Very well done, Miss Caldow. I see no reason why the entire class should not be perfectly familiar with the theorem. No one can expect to do any kind of work in advanced algebra unless she has a thorough foundation in the elementary work. Miss Cabot, you will please look up the binomial theorem and be prepared to recite it at the next meeting of the class."

Jean thought the hour would never end, but when at last the class was excused she rushed from the room almost into the arms of Marjorie Remington who was waiting for her just outside the door. "Well, honey, how did Mathematics I. go?"

"Terribly. I never want to see Miss Hooper again and I'll not take her old mathematics course another day. I don't know anything about algebra, and she pounced on me first one to explain the binomial theorem, and because I didn't know it she insulted me before the whole class."

"Just like her. Isn't she the most sarcastic person you ever knew? She can say more hateful things in fifteen minutes than any one I know. Why don't you drop mathematics and take something else in its place? You can take it up again next year."

"Next year, indeed; thank goodness I'll be far away from Ashton College by that time! One year's enough for me. But tell me, can I really drop mathematics?"

"Sure you can. I dropped Latin the first day last year and I'm just beginning it again, but I doubt if I ever pass it. All you've got to do is to go down to the office and give some reasonable excuse for dropping mathematics and offer something else in its place. They don't care when you take the required subjects as long as you finish them before senior year."

"But what can I take instead of mathematics?"

"Miss Cushing has a fine course in philosophy first half-year, and psychology second half. It's a lecture course, only her exams are stiff, but if you read up in her book in the library you'll get by all right. If you're only going to be here one year you don't care much for making records, do you?"

"No. Leave that to my room-mate, she's out for real study and nothing else. Aren't we the great combination? But still there's something about her I like; and I pity her, too, for she's had a hard time all her life. I nearly forgot, I have a German recitation now, so I'll have to leave the mathematics proposition until later."

German was delightful, as FrÄulein Weimer in her broken English explained the work of the year and then talked to the class in German, telling them stories and quoting poems. Jean felt a little calmer as she left the room, but with the memory of her first recitation still burning in her mind she hurried to the office. She explained to the secretary that she felt so poorly prepared in mathematics that she wished to leave that work until another year and take philosophy in its place. She understood that mathematics, although a required subject, could be taken any one of the first three years. She was given permission to do as she wished, and hastened to Miss Cushing's room to make further arrangements. In the hall she met Miss Hooper, who stopped her and said, "Am I right in understanding that Miss Anna Maitlandt is your cousin? Do tell me where she is and what she is going to do this year. I have wanted to know very much, but have not heard from her all summer."

"Yes," replied Jean, "Miss Maitlandt is my cousin and she was out here on Wednesday and Thursday, but was obliged to return to Framington early because she is to enter the Massachusetts General Hospital the first of October to begin a three-years' training course. She was abroad all summer and only returned last week, so she has a great deal to do in a short time."

"Oh, I am so sorry not to have seen her, for I always enjoyed her so much. What does she mean by burying herself in a hospital? She's altogether too brilliant for that." Just then some one came up to ask Miss Hooper a question and as she excused herself Jean passed on, muttering to herself, "Horrid old thing! I suppose she wants to impress upon me how brilliant my cousin was here. Wait till she misses me in mathematics on Monday and perhaps she'll realize she can't make her cutting, sarcastic remarks to every freshman in college."

The days were full and happy ones, and Monday night arrived with the annual freshman reception. After supper Marjorie Remington went upstairs with Jean and offered to help her dress. "What shall I wear, Marjorie?" said Jean.

"All your dresses are such perfect dreams I don't know which one I like the best. But let me have another look at them. Dangerous business, though, letting me see them, for I may be tempted to borrow some of them one of these days. Now, after all, I think this figured chiffon is the best for to-night, it's so different from anything I have ever seen. I'm crazy to see you in it."

It did not take long for Jean to do her hair and get into the chiffon dress. It was a peculiar chiffon, a light pink background shot with black and pink roses made up over a soft pink silk lining. The dress was low and showed off to advantage Jean's firm white throat and neck, and the sleeves came just above her elbows. The skirt reached only to her ankles and her stockings and slippers were of a delicate pink. Around her neck on a narrow band of black velvet was a small diamond star which sparkled with wonderful brilliancy. "There, will I do?" and she danced over gayly to Marjorie, who lay on the couch as though exhausted after her labors.

"Do? Why you are the most wonderful creature I've ever seen! You'll take everybody by storm. Wait till Jack sees you. I'm going to make him invite us out to his frat's first dance. You see, Jack's at Harvard and knows all the big men in his class. I have the best times in the world whenever I can get out there for anything. The only trouble is it's such awful hard work getting off the hill for the night. One of my aunts lives in Newton and she's perfectly willing to chaperon me or let me stay at her house all night, but she travels so much of the time that she's always away when I want her most. I hate taking one of the faculty with me, for they're such awful sticks. I don't see any need of chaperons anyway, but they'd make an awful fuss out here if a girl went anywhere without them."

Just then the door opened and a cheery voice began, "Have you started dressing yet?" but when the eyes of the speaker fell on the vision of loveliness before her she stopped short and just gazed.

Miss Remington arose, saying, "I guess it's time for me to go, I'm not needed any longer. Hope you'll have a good time, Miss Cabot," and she brushed by Elizabeth and banged the door after her.

"Oh, Jean, have I interrupted you? I didn't mean to. Miss Remington seems to have taken a violent dislike to me. What have I done to her?"

"Nothing, Elizabeth; she doesn't mean anything, but she's rather brusque at times, I guess."

"How beautiful you look, Jean, but I can't go with you. I haven't anything except my graduation dress and you'll be ashamed of me in that."

"Nonsense, child; let me help you dress. You'll be too sweet for words in that dainty white muslin I saw hanging in your closet. Let me do your hair low and tuck this rose at one side; it will bring out the color in your cheeks. And I've a coral pink sash I'm going to drape around your waist and with those coral pink beads father gave me just before I started you'll be a symphony in white and pink."

Indeed she did look sweet in her simple white gown and excitement made her big eyes sparkle more than was their wont. "Do you know, Jean, I've never been to a real big reception like this before. I can't dance, but I shall enjoy just sitting and watching the others. Sometime I hope to learn if I ever have the time. It's only eight now, we have half an hour before the girls will come for us. Let's read over some German. I haven't quite finished the assignment."

"Not to-night, Elizabeth. I'm not in the mood for studying. Perhaps I'll get up early in the morning and read over a little with you. I made a good recitation to-day and that ought to do for a while. I'm going over in Marjorie's room; you can call me when the girls arrive." Elizabeth sat down at her desk to study alone, a little disappointed in Jean, for she knew she had been playing tennis all the afternoon and had made no preparation for the next day. After she had read about three pages a maid announced the arrival of their escorts, so she called Jean and the two girls hastened down the stairs.

It did not take long to reach the Gymnasium, which was ablaze with lights. As they entered the main hall they paused to survey the scene of beauty before them. The massive building was transformed into a vast autumn out-of-doors, for golden rod and purple asters and bright-colored leaves were everywhere. The orchestra was concealed at one end of the hall, and played softly as the seniors introduced their guests to each other and to the faculty.

Jean and Elizabeth were given dance-orders, but Elizabeth timidly said, "I don't dance, Miss Farnsworth."

"That doesn't make a particle of difference, dear; lots of the girls don't, and perhaps you'd like to keep the dance-order as a souvenir for your memorabilia, for of course you will have one; all freshmen do. You will have partners just the same for all the dances and get acquainted just as quickly as though you were on the floor dancing. You must learn to dance as soon as possible, though, for it means so many good times here. Now let us meet the faculty."

Jean felt a little dismayed at the thought of meeting Miss Hooper, but she soon found herself shaking hands with her and heard her say, "Later in the evening, Miss Cabot, I hope I may have the pleasure of eating an ice with you in the faculty alcove. Can you spare me a few moments?"

Jean answered that she would be very pleased to, although she felt she was in for an explanation of her non-appearance in the mathematics class, and dreaded it.

Every member of the faculty seemed to be particularly interested in every freshman who was introduced to her and had something pleasant to say to them all. They seemed to have entirely forgotten their mannerisms and the severity of the class rooms. Jean looked long and earnestly at Miss Emerson and wished she might stand and talk to her indefinitely, but the long line of waiting freshmen pushed her quickly along, and she determined to find time later in the evening to ask her a few questions.

Before long the dancing began and Jean found herself passed on from one girl to another; some who danced well and some who did not; some who did nothing but ask questions; some who persisted in telling their whole family history in five minutes; some tall, some short, some handsome, some homely, but all college girls filled with the spirit of good fellowship. Once or twice she rushed over to where Elizabeth was sitting with whom she had deposited her gloves, fan, handkerchief and dance-order, and usually found her silently listening to the pearls of wisdom which fell from the lips of the senior sitting beside her.

About half-past ten Elizabeth said to her, "Jean, I have just been talking with Miss Hooper and she wishes to know if you will look for her in the faculty alcove after the next dance."

Jean was tempted to ignore the invitation and all through the next two-step turned the matter over and over in her mind and was so absorbed that her partner wondered what the other girls had found so attractive in this good-looking freshman who apparently could not talk. However, when the music stopped Jean said very casually, "Will you please tell me where the faculty alcove is?" and on being shown she very slowly approached the corner. The dim lights revealed Miss Hooper among a pile of cushions. She wondered how she could ever talk to her and what she should say. When Miss Hooper perceived her she called out, "Oh, Miss Cabot, come right in. I have been waiting for you and hoping Miss Fairfax would not forget to deliver my message. Make yourself comfortable here while we enjoy these delicious ices. First, I want to talk to you about your charming cousin. We were interrupted the other day before you had told me half I wanted to know."

Just then every light in the Gymnasium went out and left the place in total darkness and a strong chorus burst into song.

Over and over again they sang the lines, louder and louder each time. Red-fire burned outside the building and groups of girls with their hands joined danced wildly around the red lights.

"It's the sophomores," said Miss Hooper; "every year they try to break up the freshman reception. It has become a tradition, but one I believe should be abolished," and she slipped out into the main hall. The seniors found it was impossible to turn on the electricity, but hurried here and there and borrowed enough lanterns from obliging janitors to light the Gymnasium dimly. The music continued and the girls danced as though nothing had happened and thought it all the more fun to disappoint the sophs, who imagined the dance would be given up when the lights gave out. Partners had claimed Jean, and the dreaded interview with Miss Hooper ended almost where it had begun. At length the dancing stopped and after the good nights had been said Jean and Elizabeth and the two seniors wended their way homeward.

"What a mean thing it was to break up your reception," said Elizabeth to Miss Farnsworth.

"Oh, it wasn't wholly unexpected," she replied; "there is always great rivalry between the two lower classes and one never can tell when it will break out. You'll find this is only the beginning. Be on the watch, but take everything that's done in good spirit, for you must remember you'll be sophs next year and can pay it all back on the next entering class."

Soon they reached Merton Hall and found other freshmen saying good night to their escorts. Soon the great outer door was closed and the weary freshmen started upstairs. When Elizabeth and Jean reached 45 they found the door locked and on it a piece of paper which they tore down and carried over to the hall light to read. These words met their astonished gaze:

"Well, I must say I think this is carrying things altogether too far," said Jean indignantly. "Who ever heard of sleeping on the hall floor?"

By this time the other freshmen had joined them, reporting similar experiences at their rooms. One girl came down from the fifth floor, whispering, "Isn't this the limit! In front of my door is a double mattress spread on the floor with a blanket or two over it. Come upstairs, all of you and let's make ourselves as comfortable as we can and to-morrow we'll begin to plan our revenge on the sophs."

Jean was the most reluctant to go, and as she followed the others down the hall she cast one look over at 47 and said, "And to think she pretended to be my friend!" Then an idea seemed to come to her and she said, "Wait a minute girls; of course some of the seniors are up, so we can put our good clothes in their rooms and borrow some kimonas. But even if they want us to sleep in their rooms let's not accept their invitations. Let's drag that mattress down from fifth and put in front of some soph's room, say Marjorie Remington's, as close as possible to the door and give her a big surprise when she tries to walk out to-morrow morning."

The girls laughed at the thought of the joke and hurried to the rooms of the seniors to tell them what the sophs had done and to ask them for help in carrying out Jean's bright suggestions. Before long they had carried down everything the sophs had left them on fifth floor to 47 and worked so carefully that no one heard them. Then the seven girls lay down on the mattress very near together to be sure, and were soon asleep forgetting the cares of their little world.