All college days are not as exciting and as full of the unusual as those centering around the freshman-sophomore basket-ball game. It took but a little while to settle down to the regular routine of recitations and hard study. This was the time to do the best work of the year, for June was not far off, and that meant hot nights and hotter days when studying, except for an occasional examination, seemed out of the question. This does not mean that the girls did nothing else but study during the spring term, but it was what they concentrated most of their energy upon.

Jean was studying hard, particularly upon her French, for she had not forgotten her promise to Richard Fairfax and to herself. Some days it was harder than others, and she wondered if, after all, it was worth while if her college education was to end in June. On one of these days when the morrow's assignments seemed harder than usual and she was just a little discouraged about ever getting them, she decided to go down to the post office for the afternoon mail which came in at four o'clock, not that she expected a letter particularly, but she needed the exercise and change of air. There were plenty of girls she might have asked to accompany her, but to-day she wanted to be alone. She apparently was not in much of a hurry, for she went out of her way and circled around the laboratories before starting in the direction of the post office.

Leisurely she entered the office and gazed into her box and there indeed was a letter. But when she found it was from her father that changed matters entirely. She could not wait until she reached home to read it, but she sat right down in the office on the edge of the window sill and tore open the envelope and began reading the letter. It was very brief, but told her that unexpected business called him to the East and he was starting as soon as possible and would wire her when he reached Boston. Her joy knew no bounds; her father actually coming to see her and perhaps already on his way. Oh, how glad she would be to see him, and then she said aloud, "He will take me back home with him; I can't stay here and see him go back alone. Two months more here aren't worth it. I shall miss the girls and the good times and Tom's graduation, but they're nothing in comparison with father and California and the boys. Yes; I shall persuade him to take me back. I know I can do it. He can't refuse me when he sees how badly I want to go," and she hurried back to Merton to tell Elizabeth and the others the good news.

As she ran up the corridor to her room, she saw Miss Hooper just turning away from the door. "Oh," gasped Jean, "isn't Elizabeth at home? I left her in the room when I went down for the mail. I'm sorry neither of us were here to receive you. Won't you come in now with me?"

"Yes, Miss Cabot, I shall be delighted to, for although I came to see you both I wanted particularly to talk with you. Perhaps Miss Fairfax will return before long."

Jean opened the door and led her to the most comfortable chair by the window. The conversation was general for a while and then Jean could not keep her secret any longer. "Oh, Miss Hooper, I've just received a letter from my father and he's coming East on business and will be in Boston in a few days to see me. I'm so excited I can hardly wait to see him. Just think! It's a long time from September to April."

"How splendid!" said Miss Hooper. "Of course you are very anxious to see him, and no doubt he is as anxious to see you. How very À propos, too; I came to talk to you about something particular which you may care to talk over with your father, so I'll tell you now without waiting any longer. I came to ask you if you would like to spend the summer abroad with me and perhaps one or two of the girls. I generally plan to go over every two or three years and have decided to go this year. I knew you liked to travel and could afford to do so, and hoped you would like to go with me. We need not join any excursion party, but take things leisurely and go where our inclination leads us. I have always wanted to spend a summer in the British Isles, but have never had the opportunity before. If we started the last of June, right after commencement, we should have almost three months, for college does not open until late next fall. You wouldn't mind giving up going home for one summer vacation when there are three more to come, and especially if your father is coming to see you now. What do you think of the idea?"

For a moment Jean could not speak and then she burst out, "Why, Miss Hooper, I wouldn't give up going home to California for anything in the world! Why, do you know, ever since I got father's letter I have been thinking of only one thing, and that was to beg him to take me home with him when he goes. You know, I've never intended to stay here more than one year, and so I can't see what difference it makes whether I go back home now or in June. And how can you want me to go abroad with you? I'm not the kind of girl you'd like to travel with; I've never been half decent to you since I came. I've tried to, sometimes, but I never can forget how foolishly I acted at the very beginning of the year when I left your mathematics class. If there's ever been one thing which has made me want to return to college another year, it was to apologize to you and take mathematics I over again with some credit to myself and to you. I have been ashamed of myself whenever I have allowed myself to think of it, and I now humbly offer you my apology."

"And I accept it, Jean. May I call you Jean? I felt very bad when I discovered you had left the class and several times I was tempted to ask you the reason, but I thought sometime it would come out all right and you would tell me about it. From the very first I've wanted your friendship and your confidence and I have tried many times to gain it. I felt there was a reason for your attitude towards me and that sometime you would tell me what it was. Will you tell me now?"

"There is not much to tell, Miss Hooper, but what there is you shall hear now. The first day of the mathematics class you may remember that I was late, and when I entered your room you spoke to me, as you had a perfect right to do, about my tardiness, and reminded me that the class began at nine o'clock and not several minutes after. Then you called on me for the Binomial Theorem, and because I could not remember it you called upon the next girl and after she recited correctly you, indirectly perhaps, blamed me because I did not know it. I am extremely sensitive, I admit, and was keenly hurt because I thought you had criticized me too harshly before the entire class. I realized that my foundation in mathematics was very poor, and I feared my work would be an utter failure, particularly as I had begun in such a way. I acted upon the impulse of the moment and got permission to drop the subject and substitute psychology in its place. Many a time I have regretted it, but it is done and I have been the one to suffer the penalty. It is a very poor explanation, Miss Hooper, but such as it is, I hope you will accept it."

"Yes, Jean, and I see how much to blame I was, too. My greatest weakness has always been my sarcastic tongue, which I can never quite seem to control, try as I will, and I fear I have caused many another girl unhappiness through my thoughtlessness. I feel that I am as much to blame as you and I offer you my apology. Will you accept it?"

"Yes, indeed, Miss Hooper."

"And now, Jean, that we are talking along this line may I speak a little about your college course? I have been interested in you from the start, and I have followed your work in all the departments very carefully. I know how badly you got behind the first three months and the warnings you received. I know the fresh start you took and the steady progress you have made ever since, and the splendid all-around freshman you are showing yourself to be. I do not want it to stop there. I want you to come back to Ashton for another year, anyway, and, if possible, for the whole four years. You have an influence with the girls; you're a born leader and can accomplish great things or small things as you choose. I think you prefer the great things and it will take longer than this short year to accomplish them. I am not thinking of your taking my particular course, as you have said you wish to do, that in itself is a little thing, but it is the principle of the thing, for if you conquer that you will conquer the bigger obstacles that must beset your path. Education is not a four years' college course; it is life, and there are always going to be mathematic courses, which, though unpleasant, must be taken up and finished, and the way you meet them then depends upon the start you make now.

"I realize that home means a great deal to you, and so it does to all of us while we have it, and the memories of it last us long after we have lost it, but it will mean all the more to you later on. I know what I am telling you, Jean, for I've lived and learned myself. I'm begging you with all my heart and soul to come back to us and be the fine, splendid woman your father and brothers expect you to become. Perhaps I've said more than I should, but I'm so anxious for you, Jean."

"No, Miss Hooper, it's been splendid to hear you talk like this; it's as my mother would have talked; it's what I've needed all these years. I've always done pretty much as I wanted to, without considering any one but myself. You're right, I ought to come back and do what father and my brothers want me to do and what you want me to do and what I want to do myself. Yes, I admit it to you now; I've struggled against it all the year. Every time I've said I wasn't coming back I knew it wasn't right. Something in me always said, 'You are coming back; you know you are,' but I wouldn't listen and tried to deceive myself and everybody else, but I can't any longer. I'm coming back and take Mathematics I. and French, too, if I fail at June, and I'm going to work with all that's in me for dear old Ashton College.

"Oh, thank you, Miss Hooper, for coming just when you did, for I think if I had seen father first it would have been harder for me to decide the right way. And now that I feel so differently about coming back, perhaps I shall change my mind about the summer vacation. You quite took my breath away by asking me to go with you. I couldn't believe that you would want to travel with any one as silly as I have continually shown myself to be. You said perhaps there would be one or two other girls. Have you asked any one else?"

"No, Jean, because I wanted to find out first how you felt about it, and if you cared to go I wanted you to suggest others that you would like to have with us. Do you know of any one?"

"Yes, I know of one whom I should prefer above all others and who would enjoy it more than all others, but I'm not going to tell you who it is just now, if you don't mind. I've got to think it all over, and after father has come and we have had a good talk together, I'm going to take him to your room, if I may, and tell you my decision. I'm very favorably inclined, though, at the present moment."

"I agree with you that it would be best to leave it until your father comes and you can talk it over with him. I shall be very glad to have you bring him to see me as often as you care to while he is here. This has been a splendid afternoon, Jean, and I thank you for it from the bottom of my heart and I hope it is the beginning of many others."

"I think you are the one to be thanked, Miss Hooper, and not I."

"Well, perhaps we both can accept the other's thanks if we feel that we need to, and now I must hurry on or I shall be late for supper and that is a very poor example for a matron to set her girls. Come and see me often. Good-by for to-day," and she hurried down the corridor, leaving Jean smiling at the door.

About a week after this conversation took place a telegram came informing Jean that her father would arrive in Boston on the next day, Wednesday, and she was to meet him at the train. It was a very happy and excited girl who watched the New York express empty its passengers at the South Station, and she was beginning to fear he had been delayed somewhere along the way, for at first she could not find him in the hustling crowd. But after a while, away down the platform, she caught sight of him waving his hat as he saw her up beside the gate. It was a joyful meeting, and how their tongues did fly! Mr. Cabot had been to New Haven to see Tom and Jean insisted upon hearing all about that.

They sat down in the big waiting-room and talked and talked and looked at each other to be sure it was really they. "I can't believe you're really here, Daddy; it seems as though I were dreaming. Just pinch me and see if I am asleep or awake." A hearty pinch assured Jean that she was awake, but she exclaimed, "Oh, but it's good to have you here with me!"

"Let me look at you, Jeannie dear; you're changed somehow. You look the same and still there's something in your face I've never seen there before. What is it?"

"Nothing, Father, that I know of. I'm just glad I'm alive and you're with me, that's all. How long can you stay with me? I want to know, for there are so many things I want you to do and see."

"I must go back to New York to-morrow night, Jean, for I have an appointment there the following day. How would you like to go back with me, girlie?"

"Do you mean New York, Father, or California?"

"Well, when I spoke I meant New York, but how about California?"

"I should like to go to New York all right, but not to California. I did want to go badly only last week, but it's all over now and I've changed my mind and I want to stay at college the rest of the year and the other three years, too. And I've something to ask you, Dad, about this summer." And then she told him about Miss Hooper's plans for the trip abroad, and they got so interested in it that they forgot entirely where they were and what time it was.

"Why, Father," exclaimed Jean, "here we're wasting perfectly good time sitting in an old railroad station when we might be up town or out at college! Look at the clock; we've been sitting here over two hours. Why, we won't get any supper if we don't hurry. You can stay with me at Merton for supper, and then I've engaged a room for you at the Inn for the rest of the time. I had hoped you would stay over Sunday, anyway. Just think of all the things I want to show you! When can I do it all?"

"If there isn't time this trip we'll have to do what we can and leave the rest till next winter, for if you're going away from us all summer I'll surely have to find a business call east again soon after you return. Perhaps we had better start now."

There followed a busy twenty-four hours for Jean and her father. He insisted upon meeting all the girls Jean had written him about and he talked with them about the events of the year, for he was perfectly familiar with them through Jean's long, breezy, confidential letters which reached him every Friday regularly. He was introduced to Mrs. Thompson and some of the faculty; he was shown the college buildings, the rare volumes and art treasures in the library, but he wanted most to see the corridor where Elizabeth had fallen asleep. He considered that second only in interest to the roof-stairs where Jean had guarded the flag. He visited the "Pond," and Mrs. McAllister's house, and the society rooms and every other place Jean could find time to take him. She had promised Miss Hooper that her father and she would have afternoon tea with her at four o'clock and she proudly ushered him into the tiny reception-room at Wellington, which was for Miss Hooper's private use.

They talked about everything in general and Miss Hooper carefully avoided all mention of the European trip until Mr. Cabot said, "I think we ought not to stay much longer, Jean, for you know I must take the 6.17 train for Boston, so hadn't we better tell Miss Hooper what we have decided about Europe?"

"Yes, Father, but suppose you tell her."

"All right, dear; I'm very glad to do so. I'm very grateful to you, Miss Hooper, for the great interest you seem to have taken in my motherless little girl. She's a good girl, though, and I don't blame any one for taking an interest in her. If she wants to go to Europe with you for the summer, I tell her she can go, although we'll miss her terribly out home. She's the light of our house, you know, and it's going to be pretty lonesome without her, but I want her to see the world and make the most of herself, for nothing but the best will suit us. We're pretty particular, that's why we sent her east, and we want her to stay till you've given her all you've got to give and she feels she's learned enough to come back to California and take care of us. She said you wanted some one else to go with you and she does, too, and when I asked her who it was to be, it didn't take long for her to say 'Elizabeth Fairfax.' So I'm going to send her along with Jean, and I want you to do the same for both of them. Give them whatever you think is best for them and plenty of it. Jean doesn't want Elizabeth to know anything about it yet, for she's planning a surprise, but I'm telling you now so that you can go ahead with your plans and be ready to start the day after Tom's commencement. He's counting on having Jean there that day, for she's got to represent the family, so I shouldn't want to disappoint him; but after June twentieth, the sooner the better. Wish I could go with you, but I can't leave the business this year.

"Just one more cup of tea, thank you, and we'll be going. This is the best tea I've had since I can remember. Have you learned how to make it, Jean?"

"Yes, Father, I can make tea, but not like Miss Hooper's. Every one says she makes the best tea in college. Now we must go," and after a rather protracted leave-taking they almost ran for the train.

As Miss Hooper was washing her tea-dishes and putting them away, she hummed a little song to herself and said, "No wonder Jean Cabot is such a splendid girl. How can she help it with such a father?"

And as Jean and her father hastened to the little station, Mr. Cabot said to Jean, "Mighty fine woman, that Miss Hooper, mighty fine woman. Almost makes me want to study mathematics myself."

In a few moments he was on the train, waving good-by to Jean, and if she had not had this great new happiness in her heart it would have been very hard to let him go back home without her, but she smiled bravely through her tears and walked back to Merton apparently as happy as ever.