"Oh, Elizabeth, it's come, it's come!" and Jean danced into the room and frantically waved several sheets of paper in her hands.

"What's come?" said Elizabeth, as she looked up from her history.

"My letter from Tom, and the invitation to the Harvard-Yale game. You see, I've been wondering all the fall if I was to go, or whether Tom would find other fellows' sisters more attractive and forget all about me. Don't you know that little verse:

As it is, though, I am going with Tom's room-mate and Tom is going to take Connie Huntington. You haven't met her, have you? She's a California girl, in at the Conservatory, and an awfully good friend of Tom's.

"I mean to have her out here as soon as there's something worth while to take her to. The game comes the Saturday before Thanksgiving, November 23d, and it's only five days off. Tom says I'm to meet the other three in town Saturday morning and we'll have lunch early and then start for the game; afterwards we'll have dinner at the Touraine, and go to the theater. Won't that be glorious? Oh, I'm so anxious to see Tom! I wonder if he'll think I've changed any since September. Then he encloses a letter from Aunt Sarah, telling him her plans to give us a good time on our visit with her over the Thanksgiving holidays. You know, she lives in New York City winters and has more money than she knows what to do with."

"But, Jean," said her room-mate, "you four aren't going to dinner and to the theater alone on Saturday, are you? And how are you going to get back to the hall after the theater?"

"Oh, I shall have to get permission from Mary Boynton to be away for the day, and I shall come back after the theater in Mrs. Nutter's machine. Mrs. Nutter is an aunt of Constance Huntington's, who lives in Boston, and has promised to chaperon the party. I'm going in to see Midge Remington a few minutes, for she's been telling everybody for weeks that she was going to the game with Jack Goodrich, who's a senior at Harvard. She'll know all about everything and tell me just what to do."

But Marjorie was not at home, or at least did not answer to the knock on her door. She had never forgiven Jean for joining Gamma Chi, and had been rather cool to her ever since although she did not openly show her hostility. Jean hurried on to Mary Boynton's room to gain the desired permission to attend the game at Cambridge. When she entered Miss Boynton's room, that young lady and her room-mate, Ethel Lillibridge, were having afternoon tea with Miss Hooper. Mary insisted upon Jean's joining them and drawing another chair up to the cozy tea-table poured out a cup of tea and passed her the heaped-up plate of sandwiches.

"How pleasant," said Miss Hooper. "I was intending to call on you, Miss Cabot, after I left here. I seldom get over to Merton, and when I do I enjoy the girls here so much that I usually spend the afternoon in one room instead of making several calls so perhaps I shouldn't have seen you after all. How are you enjoying the year? I believe I haven't seen you except at a distance since the freshman reception when the sophomores left us in the dark so unceremoniously. Of course, like the rest of us, you are very busy all the time."

"Oh, I hope I'm not intruding upon your tea-party," said Jean. "I came to see Miss Boynton on business, but I can postpone it until another day."

"Now, Jean, wait until we have finished our tea and then if Miss Hooper will excuse us for a moment we can transact our little business in the other room and come back for some more tea."

About five o'clock, after Jean and Mary had discussed the game and permission had been given her to attend, Jean arose to leave the room. Miss Hooper excused herself, and the two started down the corridor together.

"I think this is a splendid afternoon to walk, Miss Cabot, I wonder if you would care to stroll down to the Willows with me before supper," said Miss Hooper. "I haven't been down there since college opened, and it has always been one of my favorite walks."

Jean had planned to spend the hour before supper on her French, but she felt that she could not refuse Miss Hooper's invitation. The day had been clear and crisp and the setting sun dropped its mantle of brilliant color upon all the world. Twilight was creeping on apace as they entered the Willows, so called because of the great weeping willows which grew thickly on both sides of the road for a half mile or so below the post-office.

"When the snow is on the ground and it's moonlight, I want you to come down here with me some evening," said Miss Hooper, "and see the beauty of the willows in winter. I haven't a particle of poetry in my soul, but if I did have I am sure I should find inspiration here. What a wonderful thing it is to have talent and give so much that is beautiful to the world! I cannot play or sing, but music has always been a passion with me. Mary Boynton told me how well you play and how much you enjoy music. I am glad that we have that taste in common. I have two tickets for the Symphony concerts in Boston this winter and I should like to take you with me the Saturday evening after our Thanksgiving holidays if you would like to go."

"Indeed I should like to go, Miss Hooper, and I thank you very much for the invitation. Music is my favorite study and I intend to devote all my time to it next year."

"What! do you mean that you are going to be a special?"

"No, Miss Hooper, I do not intend to return to Ashton another year. I shall study music in Los Angeles, and in a year or two perhaps study in Germany."

"Oh, you're not coming back to college? Are you serious about it? I hope you have not fully made up your mind to it, for we want you here."

"Yes, Miss Hooper, from the very first I have only intended staying this one year."

"Perhaps we can make you change your mind before June. I think we had better turn back now for it must be almost six o'clock. I could walk on for miles and miles here and forget time completely. Do you know where I live, Miss Cabot? It's Wellington, first floor. I have been matron there for ten years, and every year I am determined to give it up and live out of a dormitory, but still I stay on. There's something very fascinating to me in living with the girls and coming to know them so intimately. Do you spend the Thanksgiving recess away?"

"Yes, my brother, who is in Yale, and I are going to an aunt's in New York. I'm to go over Wednesday noon and stay until Sunday night. It seems as though I couldn't wait for the time to come. Do you go away?"

"No, I haven't many relatives in this part of the country, so I shall be here. Miss Emerson always invites the faculty and girls, who have no other place, to her house to eat turkey with her."

The conversation changed from one subject to another and when they parted at Merton, Jean wondered why no reference had ever been made to her dropping mathematics without an explanation to Miss Hooper. She was beginning to think she had been a little hasty in her judgment of her and she almost wished she had not given up the subject so quickly.

The days went by on leaden feet until Saturday the twenty-third. Jean awoke that morning early for excitement would not let her sleep. She looked over at Elizabeth's bed and found she was awake, too, so she quickly jumped from bed and ran to the window and raised the shade. "Oh, goody," she cried, "it's going to be a fine day! I was afraid last night it would rain, for the moon had a ring around it, and that's a sure sign of storm. I'm going to get ready for the game before breakfast so I can go to Chapel and first recitation. I don't need to start in until 10.23 for I'm not to meet the others until eleven at the Touraine. Wasn't it lucky I chose a blue hat and suit this fall? It isn't a real Yale blue, but it is near enough to show where my sympathies are. Do you think I'd better take my fur coat? I suppose one can't tell about the weather these days, and it's better to be on the safe side."

Jean talked continually as she dressed and answered her own questions, for Elizabeth seemed unusually silent. When she finished dressing she looked to Elizabeth for approval. "What, aren't you up yet? What's the matter this morning?"

"I don't know, Jean. When I went to bed last night I had a slight headache and this morning it's so bad I can't lift my head from the pillow. I don't understand it, for I never have headaches."

"Too much studying, dear. You know you were reading very late last night. Well, you stay right in bed all the morning. I'll bring up your breakfast to you and sign off for you at the office. Where do you keep your apron? I'm going to do your work this morning in the dining-room."

"Why, Jean Cabot, of course you're not! The idea of your thinking of such a thing. I'll be better if I get up, and I'm sure I shall be all right when I get at work."

"No, you stay right where you are and let me do as I said. There, it's seven now; good-by for a little while; please go to sleep again," and Jean shut the door before Elizabeth could protest further.

Every girl in the dining-room was so astonished that she could hardly eat when she saw Jean Cabot with a dainty white apron over her new blue suit, waiting on the middle table at breakfast. She hurried here and there and supplied their wants as though she had done it every morning of the year instead of for the first time in her life. Questions were on everybody's lips, but her only answer was, "Oh, Elizabeth overslept and I'm helping out."

Just as she had finished her own breakfast she was called out into the hall to sign for an express package which had just arrived for her. When she opened it she found an enormous bunch of violets with a card bearing the name, Frederick Manning Thornton. She buried her face in the heart of the bouquet and breathed deeply of the fragrance, then she held them up against her dress, exclaiming, "A perfect match, nothing could be better," and she hastened upstairs to put them in water until it was time to start.

After she had placed them in a vase she thought she would show them to Elizabeth. She knocked lightly on the door to see if she were asleep, and a cheery little "Come in" made her open the door. "See what I've brought to you," said Jean before she knew what she was saying. "Let me draw the table up to the bed and put the violets where you can see them. Now I'm going down for your breakfast."

"Why, Jean, where did these violets come from?"

"Oh, from an unknown admirer of yours who does not wish his name revealed. Now, what would you like for your breakfast?"

"Jean, I know these flowers were intended for you to wear to the game and I shall not let you leave them here. What has possessed you this morning? You're not at all like yourself."

"It's just that I'm nearly beside myself because I'm going to see Tom, blessed Tom! I guess if you were miles and miles away from your family you'd be beside yourself at the prospect of seeing your only brother in the East. I'm going to bring him out here to-morrow, so you must get better before then."

"Truly, I'm better now, Jean, and I'm sure when you return to-night you'll find me all well again. But I shall insist upon your wearing your violets."

"No, Elizabeth, they're for you, to remind you of me when I'm gone."

"I don't need these to remind me of you, Jean; there are so many other reminders everywhere."

Mrs. Thompson insisted upon taking up Elizabeth's breakfast to her and Jean hurried to Chapel, for it was late. Just outside Merton she met Marjorie Remington and Lill Spalding on their way in town. "Why don't you come in with us, Jean; we're going to cut all day. Come along and be a sport."

"No, I'm not going to cut any more than's absolutely necessary. I don't need to go in until the 10.23," said Jean.

"Oh, very well. Seems to me you're getting awfully conscientious all of a sudden," and as she hurried away Marjorie proceeded to tell Lill of the incident of the breakfast table.

Jean slipped into Chapel a little late and then went into the philosophy class. At length it was ended and she was on her way to Merton. She had time for a look into Elizabeth's room and found her more comfortable, although still in bed. When she reached the station it was thronged with girls going to the game, and until the train arrived they all talked excitedly about their seats and escorts. Most of the girls were to be the guests of Harvard men and of course would sit on the Harvard side, but a few, like herself, had brothers or cousins at Yale. She discovered another freshman, Jessica Goddard, attired in blue, and she ran up and greeted her with, "Good, Jess, you're Yale, I know! Come and sit with me and tell me all about the Yale players. I know almost nothing about them and Brother will be sure to expect me to be well informed."

The twelve minutes passed rapidly and before Jean had heard half enough they were out of the train and a part of the vast throng at the North Station. They had taken only a few steps before Jean heard her name called several times and turning she saw Tom and his room-mate and Constance Huntington running up the platform back of her.

"How did you get by us, Jean?" said Tom. "We stood right by the gate and didn't see anything of you until Connie spied you walking up the platform. We were looking for a girl with a bunch of violets and you haven't any."

"Well, I'll tell you about those later on," said Jean, "but now please introduce me to your room-mate so I can thank him for sending them to me."

Introductions followed and Jean apologized for not wearing the violets. "My room-mate was ill and I left them with her," she said.

"In that case," replied young Mr. Thornton, "you certainly deserve another bunch as soon as we can locate a florist's shop."

"Why, Tom, how did you happen to be here at the station? You told me in your telegram to be at the Touraine."

"Mrs. Nutter kindly offered us her automobile for the morning, so we decided to come down here and surprise you. She is in the machine just outside the station, so perhaps we'd better hustle out there. We are going to ride around the city till lunch-time. The game's at two, so we won't have any time for sight-seeing after lunch."

After they had taken their places in the machine they were whirled away into the crowded thoroughfare. Lunch was hastily eaten and at one o'clock they were on their way to Cambridge. Thousands of automobiles raced along Massachusetts Avenue; cabs and hansoms, electric cars, everything was taxed to its utmost as it sped on to the game. Mrs. Nutter tried to point out places of interest, but no one seemed to care much for anything but the game.

When they reached the Stadium they found both sides of the street lined with automobiles, so Mrs. Nutter had her chauffeur leave them at the main entrance and then take the car up the long line till space could be found to park it.

It took a long time for the little party to reach their seats, for the surging crowd ahead of them demanded attention, but each and all jostled along without a shade of impatience. Jean thought she had seen numberless girls at college, but now it seemed as if all the girls together would not have filled a single section. Where could they all have come from? At last they were seated in a section which the boys declared couldn't be better and they had a good half-hour to view the crowds and the players before the game began. Tom and his room-mate recognized fellows all around them, for almost every one in Yale had come to the game and they took great pleasure in pointing out the celebrities.

"See, there's Tad Bronson, two rows below us, captain of next year's baseball team. Isn't that girl with him a peach? They say they're engaged. She came all the way from Chicago for the game."

"There's Prexy down in the front row, and that man just rising is Prof. Hamilton. He flunks more men in college than all of the rest of the profs together."

"See, here comes our fellows, Tubbie Spencer in the lead. Wait till you see how he can play. What's the matter? Why don't we give them a cheer? Well, here's Billy Knowlton, cheer leader for this section; he'll start 'em up," and in a moment the most deafening noise that Jean had ever heard rose from the Yale side. Cheer followed cheer, and songs were occasionally intermingled. Jean found herself joining in as excitedly as the boys and in a little while knew all the Yale players and most of the Harvard ones.

Promptly at two o'clock the referee blew his whistle and the two elevens lined up for the first kick-off. From then until ten minutes after four there was not a dull moment. The ball was back and forth over the field, first on Harvard's ground and then on Yale's. The playing was more even than it had been for years and at the end of the second half the score was 6-5 in favor of Harvard.

Jean was so disappointed she could hardly keep back the tears that had started to her eyes, and she cried out, "I think it's a downright shame! To think you should be beaten at my first Harvard-Yale, Mr. Thornton! I just hate Harvard."

"Yes, it is hard luck, and my greatest regret is that I can't look forward to next year to see Yale trim them. That's the worst of being a senior; everything you do this year is for the last time. I envy you being a freshman with four good years ahead of you. They're the best years of your life, take my word for it. I'd give a good deal if I were beginning it all over again. Of course I shall always try to go to the big games, but it will never be the same as when you're an undergraduate. See the fellows down there forming the procession. They'll march up and down the Stadium several times and throw their hats up over the goals. No one ever expects to get his own hat back, but it's all part of the game. They'd better celebrate to-day, for they may not have another chance again."

The little party stood and watched the long procession of undergraduates take possession of the great Stadium as they marched up and down, across and around the field. When they reached either goal every hat was off and tossed up over the cross-bar and caught again by the nearest man as it came down. After fifteen or twenty minutes of this the procession passed out of the gate, the leaders carrying the victorious eleven upon their backs, and soon they were lost from sight, although their shouting and singing could be heard long after.

It was almost dark when Mrs. Nutter and her guests took their places in the automobile. They had been obliged to wait a long time for the machine, as there were so many others ahead of them. However, they made up for lost time by tearing with the highest speed toward Boston. As they were crossing Harvard Bridge Jean begged them to stop a moment, for the three bridges spanning the Charles seemed to be but parallel lines of bright lights which in the darkness presented a most novel appearance. She saw the lighted dome of the State House for the first time and exclaimed upon its height and brilliancy. "I wish I had to cross Harvard Bridge every night, it is so beautiful here," she said as they started off again.

A table had been reserved for them at the Touraine and they found themselves among a merry throng of young people, most of them the supporters of the crimson and jubilant over their victory. Here and there were Yale men and their guests and the men and girls circulated from one table to another renewing acquaintances.

It was a little late when they arrived at the theater and the play had already begun. The house had been bought up by the Yale men and decorations of blue were everywhere. The singers had touches of blue in their costumes and sang the good old Yale songs, and at the end of the second act threw hundreds of rolls of blue confetti out over the audience. No one pretended to know anything about the comic opera itself, for there was so much Yale music introduced, so many jokes about the football players and the game, so much applause and singing on the part of those in the audience that the real plot, if there could be said to be one, was almost lost sight of.

As the boys wished to take the midnight express out of Boston, Tom suggested that they leave before the last act was quite over. The party were to see Jean safely landed at Ashton and then motor back to Boston. Jean was disappointed that Tom could not stay over Sunday, for she had promised herself the pleasure of taking him to Vespers and introducing him to her friends. He promised her that pleasure later in the year and reminded her that they were to have five days together the next week. The two talked over trains and plans for meeting in New York and the others became very quiet, for the day had been a long one in spite of its many pleasures, and they were content to make themselves as comfortable as possible in the machine and let the others do the talking.

It was after eleven when they drew up in front of Merton, and Jean and Tom alighted. Good-nights were said and promises made for future reunions, and as Jean stepped into the hall Tom sang out, "Good-by till Wednesday. I'll meet you in the Grand Central at four. If I'm not at the train you sit down by the Inquiry Office and wait till I come. The trains are apt to be crowded at holiday time and one can't tell when they will arrive. So long; hope you'll find your room-mate better. Give her my bestest," and he hastened back to the others and they were off and away before Jean had reached 45.

Although she entered the room very quietly Elizabeth heard her and called her into the bedroom, which she entered, asking, "How do you feel, Elizabeth?"

"Oh, ever so much better, Jean. I shall be all right in the morning. My headache has gone entirely. I got up this afternoon, but didn't go out of the room. So many of the girls were away that I wasn't really needed in the dining-room. Was everything as nice as you expected?"

"Yes, Elizabeth, I think it has been the happiest day this year so far. There's so much to tell you it can be our main topic of conversation for the rest of the term. However, I'm not going to begin until to-morrow, for I'm so tired I can't see straight. I'll just put out the lights in the other room and then I'm ready for bed."

"Oh, Jean, I forgot to tell you that there are two notes for you on your desk. Some one brought them this afternoon and I left them where you could find them as soon as you came in."

"Thank you," said Jean, and she dragged her weary feet out into the other room. She went straight to her desk and turned on the little desk light, which revealed two envelopes bearing the college seal. "They look suspicious," she said to herself. "Faculty notes; I recognize the writing on one of them. Well, I won't open them to-night. I've had a perfect day and these would spoil it all. I'll wait till morning before I read them," and she left them exactly where Elizabeth had placed them, and putting out the lights was soon in bed.

She awoke very early next morning, almost before it was light, for in spite of her weariness she could not seem to sleep. Something had disturbed her usual placid slumber, but she could not just remember what it was. Then it came over her that something unpleasant waited for her on her desk. She crept softly into the other room and sat down at the desk and slowly opened the notes. The first one was from Mlle. Franchant; a warning in French with the suggestion that the subject be dropped at Christmas if there was not a decided improvement. The second was from the Office informing her that she had overcut in Chapel and also in gymnasium classes and asking her to report at the Dean's Office Monday at half-past eleven o'clock. How long she stared at the messages before her she did not know, but when she could no longer see them for the blinding tears she dropped her head on her arms upon the desk and sobbed, "I do care, I do care!" And when some time after Elizabeth came out into the room she found her still there. She did not try to comfort her, but left her to fight it out with herself.