"It's the Anarchist, of course," said Anne, turning to Grace.
"I wonder who she left roomless in the hall this time," speculated Grace. "Shall we go and see?"
"Do you think we had better?" hesitated Anne.
"Yes," returned Grace boldly. "To a certain extent we are responsible for the welfare of the freshmen." Opening the door, she looked up and down the hall. Then, with a sudden air of resolution, she walked downstairs. On the oak seat in the hall, looking disconsolately about her, sat the "cunning" freshman that Grace had admired. At sight of Grace she sprang toward the sophomore with an eager, "Won't you please tell me where I can find Mrs. Elwood?"
"I believe she has gone to market," replied Grace. "She usually goes at this time every morning. Can I help you in any way?"
"No-o," replied the other girl doubtfully. "I wished to see Mrs. Elwood, because—" Her lip quivered. A big tear rolled down her cheek. "Oh, I hate college," she muttered in a choking voice. "I wish I hadn't come here. I'd go back to the station and take the next train west, if I hadn't promised my brother that I'd stay. I hate the east and everything in it. I know I'm going to be unhappy here."
With the smile that few people could resist, Grace sat down on the seat beside the tearful little stranger. "I think I know what is troubling you," she said gently. "I could not help overhearing Miss Atkins a few moments ago. I also heard you running downstairs, so I came down, too, to ask you if there was anything I could do for you."
"You are very kind," faltered the stranger. "I must wait to see Mrs. Elwood, but will you tell me your name, please?"
"Oh, I beg your pardon for not introducing myself," responded Grace contritely. "I am Grace Harlowe of the sophomore class."
"My name is Mildred Taylor," responded the newcomer. "I came from the station in the bus a few minutes ago. There were two other freshmen with me. They seem to be more fortunate than I. The maid showed us to our rooms. I supposed, of course, that I would have to room with another girl, but I didn't think—" she paused.
"I know," sympathized Grace. "I heard what was said to you; at least a part of it. Won't you come upstairs to our room and meet my roommate, Miss Pierson?"
"It is very thoughtful in you to take so much trouble for me," replied the freshman gratefully.
"That is part of our plan here at Overton," laughed Grace. "When I was a lonely, bewildered freshman, several of the upper class girls made it their business to look out for my comfort. Now it is my turn to pass that kindness along."
"What a nice way to look at things!" exclaimed Mildred Taylor. "If I thought the rest of the girls in the college were going to be like you, I'd be ready to love Overton."
"Oh, you will love Overton," was Grace's quick reply. "You can't help yourself."
Anne received the forlorn newcomer with a sweet courtesy that quite charmed her. "We are in the midst of our unpacking," she explained. "Our trunks came only a little while ago. Won't you take off your hat and coat?"
"Anne, I will leave Miss Taylor in your care," declared Grace. "Please excuse me, I'll be back directly," she nodded encouragingly to their guest.
At the door of Miriam's room Grace knocked softly, then in answer to the impatient, "Come in," entered to find Elfreda standing in the midst of an extended circle formed by her possessions.
"Isn't this enough to discourage the most valiant heart?" she declared, with a comprehensive sweep of her arm over the scattered contents of her trunk. "But I am going to clear everything away. I promised Miriam that my half of the room should be kept 'decently and in order' all year. It is one of my sophomore obligations."
Grace listened in amusement to the stout girl's earnest assertion. "I haven't finished unpacking either," she said. "I came for advice. The freshman who was to occupy the other half of Miss Atkins's room has arrived, and Miss Atkins won't let her into the room. I just brought her upstairs to my room.
"Last night I talked with Mrs. Elwood. She isn't particularly anxious to have Miss Atkins in the house. When Miss Taylor, that is the name of the freshman who just came, tells her about what happened she will ask Miss Atkins to leave Wayne Hall. This girl has brought with her to Overton the worst possible spirit in which to begin her freshman year. Of course, we don't know whether she is rich or poor, or whether her success or failure in college means anything to any one besides herself. We can not know under what circumstances she has been brought up. Perhaps she has some one at home who is straining every nerve to send her to college. Perhaps there is a father, mother, sister or brother who has made untold sacrifices to give her a college education. Perhaps there has been no lack of money, only a desire on the part of parents or a guardian to get rid of her by sending her off to school. I believe we ought to try to help this girl in spite of her rudeness to us. Will you go with me to her room? I want to talk to her. We may find her in a better humor than she was in last night. While Anne entertains Miss Taylor you and I will venture into the domain of the Anarchist."
"I'll go," agreed Elfreda, secretly flattered because Grace had chosen her.
Grace led the way down the hall to the end room. A sulky voice responded to her knock, and throwing open the door the two girls stepped inside. The belligerent freshman sat bolt upright in a Morris chair, forbidding and implacable.
"How do you do?" said Grace politely. "I hope we are not intruding."
The young woman merely scowled by way of answer.
"I wonder how I'd better begin," pondered Grace, looking squarely into the hostile eyes.
Elfreda stood calmly surveying the scowling girl. "You might ask us to sit down," she observed impertinently.
The young woman glanced at the stout girl with an expression of angry amazement. Elfreda's rudeness was equal to her own.
"I beg your pardon," she said satirically. "Won't you be seated?"
"Oh, no, I just wanted to hear you say it," flung back Elfreda.
Ignoring this retort, Miss Atkins turned to Grace. "What do you wish?" she asked with cold precision.
"I am sorry to be obliged to tell you that if you do not allow Miss Taylor to occupy her half of the room, you are likely to be asked to leave Wayne Hall," said Grace gravely. "Mrs. Elwood was displeased over what happened last night, and I know that when she learns of what has happened to-day she will not overlook it. We do not wish to see you leave Wayne Hall, and besides, the various college houses are filling fast. You might have difficulty in securing a desirable room elsewhere."
"Is there any reason why I should not occupy this room alone?"
"None whatever, if you arranged for a single beforehand," interposed Elfreda shrewdly. "If you did, I can't see why Mrs. Elwood consented to take Miss Taylor."
"I did not arrange for a single room," was the stiff response.
"Then you haven't any case, have you?" queried Elfreda cheerfully. "Now, see here. I am going to tell you a few things. You are beginning all wrong. It is just what I did last year, and I had a pretty disagreeable time, you may rest assured. The best thing you can do is to tell Miss Taylor to come and claim her half of the room before anything happens to you. If you leave Wayne Hall, sooner or later the whole college will hear of it and it won't help you to be popular, either. It is easy enough to do as you please regardless of whether or not it pleases others, but you are bound to pay for the privilege. If you don't believe me, just wait and see."
A flush mounted to the defiant stranger's cheeks.
"Public opinion is usually a matter of small importance to me," she said, but her tone of lofty indifference was not convincing. "There is, however, a certain amount of wisdom in what you have just said. I should not care to appear ridiculous in the eyes of the really important students at Overton. You may inform Miss Taylor that I have altered my decision. I shall raise no further objections to her as a roommate."
With a pompous gesture of dismissal this self-centered young woman rose and walked majestically to the window. Turning her back squarely upon Grace and Elfreda, she appeared to be deeply absorbed in watching what went on in the street, and, divided between vexation and laughter, the two girls left the room. Elfreda hurried back to her unpacking and Grace to her own room.
"It is all right, Miss Taylor. Your roommate is prepared to receive you," Grace announced.
"I shall be glad to have some place I can call all my own," sighed the little girl, "but I know I shall never like her," she added resentfully.
"On the contrary, you may learn to like her very much," returned Grace. "Now I'll help you with your things." Picking up Miss Taylor's heavy suit case, Grace escorted her to the door of the end room.
"How did it happen?" greeted Anne, when five minutes later Grace returned alone, smiling and triumphant.
"Don't ask me," laughed Grace. "Ask Elfreda. She wrought the miracle."
"What did she do?" asked Anne.
"She won the day, or rather the half of the room, by plain speaking." Grace recounted to Anne what had taken place in the belligerent young woman's room. "She made more impression on the Anarchist in five minutes than I could have made in a week," finished Grace.
"Elfreda has a remarkable personality," was Anne's thoughtful answer. "Her very frankness makes an impression where diplomacy counts for little. However, I am not surprised that history repeated itself so soon. I hope this is the last time we shall be obliged to thwart the Anarchist and administer justice to the oppressed.
"I don't envy Miss Taylor," said Anne. "I wish every girl in college had as nice a roommate as I have."
"Beware of flatterers," laughed Grace.
"And also of Anarchists," added Anne.
"But of the two," smiled Grace, "I prefer flatterers, especially if they happen to occupy the other half of my room."
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