It did not take long for a letter to come back to the two girls from Dr. Fairfax, gladly giving his consent to the proposed plan for the summer and expressing his gratitude to Jean and her father for giving so much happiness to his "little girl," as he always called Elizabeth in spite of the fact that she had long since grown up. Both girls were highly elated over the prospects of their trip, and for the first few days could hardly keep their mind on anything else. However, they both were determined to make the most of the last days of college and each found her different interests absorbing. Elizabeth had been putting all her spare time on her extra work in history and Jean hers on the tennis courts.

Ever since warm weather had made outdoor sports possible, the indoor gymnasium work had ceased, and the girls athletically inclined found plenty to interest them out of doors. Ashton could well boast of its splendid tennis courts directly back of the gymnasium, and on any pleasant day one would find the courts crowded. Jean had been out from the first day the courts were ready for use, and was easily acknowledged to be one of the best players in college—without a question the best player in the freshman class. Several of the upper-class girls, among them Natalie Lawton, Madeline Moore, and Avis Purrington, were working hard and had announced their intentions of going into the tournament. All along Jean had also secretly determined to enter, if it were a possible thing, and she wanted to win, too. It was her last chance to really do something for 1915, freshman year. The only obstacle that stood in her way was her fear of failure in French, but when she went to Mlle. Franchant late in May and asked her concerning her work, her joy knew no bounds when she was told that her mark was a passing one and she could enter the tournament.

On the night of the twelfth of June, the day before the tournament began, several of the tennis enthusiasts were down in Natalie Lawton's room discussing the events of the next day. "What do you think of the weather, Nat?" said Peggy to her room-mate, who stood at the window, apparently lost in thought as she gazed out into the dark and cloudy night.

"Doesn't look very promising, girls, does it? It will be a shame if it rains. We have had such perfect weather all the month it seems as though it might last two days longer. The courts are in perfect condition now and a heavy rain will spoil everything. How's your courage, Jean? You've drawn first round, haven't you, against Cora Hammond? I'm in the other court against Avis Purrington. How's your shoulder to-night?"

"A little lame, Nat," said Jean, "but I'm going to rub it well and turn in early, for I need the sleep all right. I'm dead to the world. If you don't mind, I think I'll say good night now, rival. Are any of the rest of you coming upstairs with me? You all need sleep, so take my advice and stop eating that candy and get a good night's sleep."

"Well, who ever heard of such nerve?" said Natalie. "The idea of a little freshie giving advice to us seniors and juniors. But then, I guess you're right in spite of your age, for I admit I'm tired, too. Suppose we all follow suit and turn in."

"Good night, girls," called out Peggy. "Good luck to you all, although, of course, you can't all win the prize. By the way, what is the prize?"

"Why, Peggy," said Natalie disgustedly, "you know perfectly well that there isn't any prize. It's the honor of the thing. Isn't that enough?"

"Yes," said Peggy; "I'd forgotten about it. Well, 'Happy dreams,'" and then the girls scattered to their different rooms.

In spite of the gloomy outlook of the weather the night before, the morning of June twelfth was as perfect as its predecessors had been, and all that the tennis players could wish for. The preliminaries were to be played throughout the day, as the programmes of the girls allowed. On the next morning were to come the semi-finals and in the afternoon the finals, when excitement always ran highest. About twenty of the girls had entered the tournament and most of them were speedy players. There were only two freshmen—and the others upper-class girls. Although Natalie Lawton had won the championship the year before, it had been with great difficulty, and her opponent, Madeline Moore, was all the more anxious to win out this year. Popular sentiment had picked Natalie Lawton, Madeline Moore, or Jean Cabot as the winner this year, so it was not at all surprising to the student body as a whole to learn that at the end of the preliminaries these three and a hitherto unsuspected sophomore, Mabel Hastings, were to play in the semi-finals on the following morning. It was rather a coincidence that each of the four classes should have a representative.

The semi-finals took place at ten o'clock, and there were some of the hardest sets ever played at Ashton. Jean was playing Mabel Hastings and won after five sets, 7-5, 1-6, 6-8, 6-3, 6-1 and Natalie Lawton won from Madeline Moore in three sets, 6-2, 6-2, 6-1; so Natalie and Jean were left to fight for the finals in the afternoon. Jean was so excited that she declared she could eat no dinner, and hurried to her room to lie down and rest until the finals, which were to begin at three o'clock. Elizabeth carried up her dinner and compelled her to eat all that she had brought her, knowing how much she needed nourishment after her violent exercise of the morning. Then Jean lay quietly in her room, although she could not sleep from excitement, and she waited for the minutes to pass until it should be half-past two o'clock.

It seemed as though every girl in college had turned out to see the finals. The early comers had filled the few seats which the ground afforded; the rest either sat on the grass or stood in little groups near by. Here and there among the white dresses could be seen the severely dark clothes of a man, for it was one of the few events to which the "masculine element" could be invited. This event was followed so closely by Class Day and Commencement that some of the favorite brothers or cousins or friends of the seniors were inveigled into coming a little earlier, ostensibly to witness a tennis tournament, but in reality to bask a little longer in the sunshine of the Sweet Girl Graduate.

Promptly on the stroke of three, Jean and Natalie, in their immaculate white linens, walked coolly out upon the courts and the play began. By the toss of the racket Jean won the first serving and sent one of her usual swift balls into the opposite court. Natalie was there to receive it and sent it back as swiftly as it had come. Both girls seemed very evenly matched, but Natalie, by deep driving to Jean's backhand, won the first game. Her luck changed at this point though, and Jean jumped into the lead of 3-1. Natalie seemed spurred on by this, and by more hard, deep driving soon had Jean on the run. She played into the net oftener and with this style of play the lead changed to Natalie at 4-3. The eighth game was very close. Jean got to 30-40 on Natalie's serve, but fast driving on Natalie's part won her the game, making the score 5-3 in her favor. Jean won her serve in the next game and even got an advantage in the tenth, but then the last year's champion rose to the occasion and by taking a net position, won three successive points and the first set with a score of 6-4.

There was a rest of fifteen minutes before the second set, and the two players left the court and retired to the gymnasium. The crowds out of doors circulated around the grounds, introducing their guests and talking over the remarkable playing of both girls. At the end of the fifteen minutes the players returned and, changing courts, began the second set.

This set was not as close as the first one but was as full of spectacular playing. Natalie took the net oftener and by splendid smashing ran the score up to 4-1 in her favor. Weakening a little in the next game, she failed to return Jean's excellent service, so Jean took advantage of it and won her second game in the set. This seemed almost to enrage Natalie, and she went after the last two games in whirlwind fashion and outplayed Jean in every way, making the final score of the second set 6-2. It was all over before Jean realized it, and she had lost, and Natalie had won the college championship for a second time.

She saw the girls hurrying toward Natalie, but she was determined to be the first to congratulate her, so she dropped her racket and ran as fast as she could to the spot where the almost exhausted champion had dropped. "Congratulations, Natalie," she said; "you certainly deserve the championship, and I'm mighty glad you won it."

All Natalie could say was, "Thank you, Jean, but I hate to take it away from you, for you wanted it so badly."

"Don't you worry about that," said Jean, smiling bravely. "I've got three more years to try for it, and you've only one. I'll have it yet, see if I don't. And I'd rather have you win it than any one else in college. We kept it from the sophs, anyway, and there's a lot of consolation in that. I'm monopolizing you, Nat, for all the girls are waiting to offer you their congratulations. It was splendid; that's all I've got to say."

Jean had to acknowledge to herself that she was terribly disappointed, but as soon as she realized she had lost, she decided to make the most of it and not let any one else see her real feelings in the matter. She smiled in her most friendly manner to all of the girls who came to compliment her on her splendid playing, and to offer their sympathy for her defeat. She was as much surrounded as the real champion and accepted all of the homage in a most gracious way, although she secretly longed to be away from it all and alone by herself to have it out once for all. It was some time before she could leave the girls, for it was an ideal day to linger out of doors and no one seemed to be in a hurry to leave the courts. At last she managed to tear herself away from a gushing freshman and her fond mamma who was visiting Ashton for the first time, and felt the necessity of seeing everything and everybody worth while, and started down towards Merton hoping that she would not be held up again.

She had gone but a little way when she heard some one calling to her from behind. At first she pretended not to hear, but the calls became louder and more insistent, so she turned around and saw Anne Cockran hurrying towards her and waving for her to stop. There was nothing to do but wait, so she stopped right where she was until Anne caught up with her.

"I've been looking everywhere for you, Jean. Where have you been? Every time I got my eye on you on the courts you were completely surrounded by fond admirers and I couldn't get within ten feet of you. Finally I got discouraged and went over to talk with Bess Allison and some friends of hers, and when I left them and looked for you there wasn't a trace of you anywhere."

"I was held up by that gushing Gladys Norton and her mother, and thought I never should get away from them, and when I finally managed to extricate myself I was so tired of people and conversation that I made a bee-line for Merton."

"Which means," broke in Anne, "that you wish I hadn't butted in to bother you some more. That's just the reason you didn't stop when I called to you. Well, cheer up, Jean, I'll not bother you long; I just wanted to talk to you a few moments, but I'll leave it until another time if you want me to."

"No, Anne dear, of course not; but it was just because I was tired and disappointed and felt a little grouchy at every one. You know how you felt the night of the freshman-sophomore basket-ball game when you got hurt and couldn't play any more. We both know what it is to be disappointed, don't we? But I'm better already with just seeing you this short time, so tell me what you wanted to and I promise you my undivided attention."

"I wanted to ask you something rather than tell you something, and I'm just a little afraid to do so. You know room-drawing comes the day before Class Day and I wanted to know if you had made your plans for room-mate next year. I want to ask you to live with me. I'm sort of tired of Merton and perhaps one of us will draw another house and choose the other for room-mate. I don't want to room with Sallie another year. She's a dandy girl and we've had a good year together, but isn't just exactly my style, and then besides, she's a soph and we are always at swords' points when it comes to class spirit. But you are just the girl I want. We're in the same class and society and we like the same things and the same people and we both want to make basket-ball next year and I'm going in for tennis, too. I've never played a game in my life, but after to-day's games I wouldn't miss it for anything. Of course you don't want to room with Elizabeth another year. She's all nice enough and a fine student, but not at all your style. She'll probably want a single, anyway, won't she?"

"I don't know, Anne," said Jean very thoughtfully.

"Well, anyway, Jean, it doesn't make any difference to us what she wants to do, the main thing is that I want to room with you. What have you to say about it?"

"Why really Anne, I haven't thought anything about next year. I've been so happy these days with things just as they are that I guess I thought everything was going on as it is now. When we are contented we don't want to change, do we? It's awfully nice of you to say that you want to have me room with you and I appreciate it, but honestly, Anne, I can't do it. Why, if Elizabeth will have me, I want to go on rooming with her. I couldn't really stay at college without her. She's my safety-valve and inspiration and all that sort of thing. She brings out the best that's in me and I need her more than anything else in the whole college, and then, besides, I think the world of her. She's the most lovable girl you can imagine, after you get to know her. I admit she doesn't go in for clothes and men and good times generally, but she's clever and she's going to amount to something before she leaves this place. I haven't asked her yet; but if she's willing I want her for my room-mate next year, and it doesn't make much difference where we room. I've grown very fond of Merton, but I'd prefer Wellington where Miss Hooper lives.

"By the way, I'll tell you a secret. Miss Hooper and Elizabeth and I are going to travel together this summer in the British Isles. Isn't that splendid? Now, Anne, please don't be angry with me because I won't room with you. You see how it is. We can be the same good friends as ever, can't we, even if we're not room-mates?"

"Yes, I suppose so," said Anne, "but I'm disappointed and I can't get over it in a minute. I can't understand what you see in Elizabeth; she seems to have hypnotized you from the very first of the year. She's all right and sweet and good enough, but I can't understand your awful crush on her."

"There, there," said Jean, "don't get so excited or you'll be saying things you'll be sorry for later on. Will you come up to 45 until supper time? I want to get into some fresh clothes. I feel as though I'd been through a Turkish bath. Wasn't it frightfully hot in the sun? It was right in my eyes the last game. Isn't Nat a perfect wonder at the game?"

"Yes, but so are you, and I was just boiling that you didn't win. You put up a much better game than she did all through the 'prelims' and semi-finals; you had all the hardest players up against you, and by the time you got to the finals you were all tired out. I think you deserve as much credit as Natalie, even if she did win at the end."

"My goodness, Anne, but you've got it in for everybody this afternoon! Come upstairs with me and eat some candy and see if that will sweeten you a little."

"All right, I will, thank you; I haven't had any candy for an age. I'm dead broke since I bought my Class-Day hat and I don't get another cent until I go home. I'm afraid I'll even have to borrow some money to buy my ticket home unless Dad will be favorably impressed by my last frantic appeal for a little more money."

The girls finished a large box of chocolates, and by supper time Anne was in a much better mood, although still disappointed because Jean was not to room with her. When Jean came up from supper that night a little later than usual she found Elizabeth at her desk writing a letter. She stole softly up behind her and put her hands over her eyes and called out, "Guess who's your room-mate next year, Elizabeth."

"Oh, is it you, Jean? I've been wanting all day to ask you about it, but I didn't quite dare. I heard some of the girls talking about the room-drawing last night when I was waiting on table, and that was the first time I knew anything about it. I thought things would go on just the same every year unless one wanted to change."

"And do you want to change, Elizabeth?"

"No, Jean, but I wasn't so sure about you. There are so many of your other friends, you know."

"Well, Elizabeth, I'm perfectly satisfied with my present room-mate and don't intend to change her for any one else. I wish we might room in Wellington so we could be near Miss Hooper, but wherever we are we'll be together, won't we? Now I must write a letter to Tom about Class Day, for he wants to know everything he's expected to do, and if I don't get the letter mailed in the morning he won't have time to make any elaborate preparations. Have you any message to send him?"

"Why, no, Jean; I'll save them until I meet him Class Day. Now get to writing, for it will be ten o'clock before you know it and you must be tired after your strenuous day."

"Yes, I am tired," said Jean, "but this letter must be written if it takes till midnight," and she wrote several pages of full particulars about Class Day to Tom, who was to be her special guest on that day. He was to take her back with him for Yale Commencement and then see her safely to New York, where she was to meet Miss Hooper and Elizabeth the day before sailing.