"How does it feel to be a senior, Mabel?" questioned Miriam Nesbit, glancing smilingly over where Mabel Ashe, gowned smartly in white, her brown eyes dancing with interest in what went on about her, sat eating her dessert, and obligingly trying to answer half a dozen questions at once.
The seven other girls at the table looked expectantly at the pretty senior, who was their hostess at a dinner given by her at Martell's that Saturday evening.
"Oh, just the same as it did last year," she replied lightly. "I feel vastly older and a shade more responsible. To tell you the truth, I hate to think about it. I don't know how I am ever going to get along without Overton. I think I shall have to disguise myself and come back next year as a freshman; then I could do the whole four years over again."
"The question is, What are we going to do next year without you?" remarked Grace mournfully.
"Let us forget all about it," advised Mabel. "I refuse to have any weeps at my dinner. You may shed your tears in private, but not here."
"What are you going to do when you finish college?" asked Miriam Nesbit.
"You girls will laugh when I tell you," replied Mabel solemnly, "but really and truly there is only one thing I care to do. I have warned Father that I intend to be self-supporting, but I haven't dared to tell him how I propose to earn my living."
"What are you going to do? Tell us, Mabel. We won't tell."
"Frances knows already. She thinks it would be fine, don't you, Frances?"
Frances nodded emphatically.
"I hope to become a newspaper woman," solemnly announced Mabel.
"A newspaper woman!" cried Constance Fuller. "Why, I think that would be dreadful!"
"I don't," stoutly averred Mabel. "I'd love to be a reporter and go poking into all sorts of places. After a while I'd be sent out to write up murder trials and political happenings and, oh, lots of big stories." Mabel beamed on her amazed audience.
"I never would have believed it of you, but I'm sure you could do it," predicted Leona Rowe confidently.
"Good for you!" cried Mabel, leaning across the table to shake hands with Leona. "I have one loyal supporter at least."
Mabel's declaration having brought to the minds of the little company the fact that sooner or later the choice of an after-college occupation would be necessary, a brisk discussion began as to what each girl intended to do. Aside from Anne, who had fully determined to stick to her profession, and Constance, who was specializing in English, with the intention of one day returning to Overton as an instructor, no one at the table had a very definite idea of her future usefulness.
"We seem to be a rather purposeless lot," remarked Miriam Nesbit. "The trouble with most of us is that we are not obliged to think about earning our own living after we leave college. We look forward to being ornaments in our own particular social set, but nothing more. I'm not sure, yet, what I am going to do with my education. I intend to put it to some practical use, though."
"So am I," agreed Grace. "We'll just have to keep on doing our best and find ourselves."
"I suppose that is the real purpose of going to college," said Anne thoughtfully.
"I think we are all growing too serious," laughed Mabel. "By the way, Grace," she went on, "who is that curious looking little freshman with the perpetual scowl that lives at Wayne Hall!"
The four Wayne Hall girls exchanged significant glances.
"Stop exchanging eye messages and tell me," ordered Mabel.
"Her name is Atkins," returned Grace briefly. Then a peculiar look in her eyes caused Mabel to say hastily, "I just wondered who she was," and changed the subject.
As they left Martell's, walking two by two, Mabel fell into step with Grace. Slipping her arm through that of the Oakdale girl, she said in a low tone, "Come over to see me to-morrow evening. I have something to say to you. I almost said it before the girls; then I caught your warning look in time. Come to dinner to-morrow night and stay all evening. I promise faithfully to make you study."
"I have a theme to do," replied Grace dubiously. "Do you think there would be any prospect of my getting it done?"
"Oceans of it," assured Mabel glibly. "I'll be as still as a mouse while you do it. If you need a subject perhaps I can furnish the inspiration. As long as I intend to become a newspaper woman I might as well begin to sprout a few ideas."
"All right, I'll come," laughed Grace. "Did I tell you I was taking chemistry this year? I find it very absorbing."
"I liked it, too," agreed Mabel. "I am more interested in psychology, though I like my essay and short story work best of all. I'm going in for interpretative reading, too. All that sort of thing will help me in my work when I leave here."
"I wish I knew what I wanted to do," sighed Grace. "I'd love to begin to plan about it now."
"It will dawn upon you suddenly some day," prophesied Mabel, "and you will wonder why you never thought of it before."
The diners strolled along together as far as the campus. There, Constance Fuller, Mabel, Frances and Helen Burton left the quartette from Wayne Hall.
"It's early yet," said Elfreda, consulting her watch.
"What time is it, Elfreda?" asked Grace.
"Half-past eight," answered the stout girl. "We have plenty of time to study. I, for one, need it. My subjects are all frightfully hard. I tried to pick out easy ones, but did you ever notice that the schedule is so arranged that you can't possibly pick out two easy subjects and recite them both in the same term? One always conflicts with the other."
"Long experience, crafty faculty," laughed Miriam. "They know our weaknesses and how to deal with them."
"The last time we were out to dinner in a body we talked about the past. This time it was the future," remarked Elfreda. "That reminds me, what has become of Arline and Ruth? I haven't seen either of them this week except at a distance."
"Arline and Ruth haven't been on friendly terms since the night of Arline's dinner at Vinton's," Grace remarked soberly. "It isn't Ruth's fault. She is heartbroken over the estrangement. This is the first difference she and Arline have ever had."
"Such a ridiculous thing to quarrel over," sniffed Elfreda. "I could see that night that Arline was cross because Ruth didn't want to talk about herself."
"I hope they will be friends again before the reception," said Grace. "It would be awkward for all of us if they are not."
"Oh, dear," sighed Anne, sitting down on the top step of the veranda. "I'm too lazy to look at my books to-night." The four girls had reached Wayne Hall and the beauty of the autumn night made them reluctant to go into the house, where an evening of hard study awaited them. "I'd like to stay out here for hours and look at the stars."
"And have stiff neck and a cold of the fond, clinging type, to-morrow," jeered Elfreda.
"How disgustingly practical you are, Elfreda!" exclaimed Miriam.
"I'm only warning her," persisted Elfreda.
"It doesn't seem as though we'd been back at Overton for three weeks, does it?" asked Grace.
"It seems longer than that to me," said Miriam Nesbit. "The freshman dance happened ages ago, according to my reckoning, and nothing, absolutely nothing, has happened since."
"Never mind, it won't be long until the sophomore reception," comforted Grace. "I never suspected that you had such a rabid craving for excitement, Miriam."
"The freshman dance was a tame affair," averred Miriam. "I think our class was more interesting in its infancy than is this year's class."
"I think so, too," agreed Grace. "Still, we don't know what genius lies hidden in the bosoms of 19—'s freshmen."
"This year we shall be the hostesses," exulted Elfreda. "Who are you girls going to invite?"
"I'll ask Miss Taylor," volunteered Anne.
"I'll ask Miss Wilton," said Miriam.
"That's two from Wayne Hall," counted Anne. "There are two freshmen left."
"One of us could invite that nice tall girl, Miss Evans," planned Grace. "That leaves only one girl uninvited." She hesitated. Her three friends read the meaning of the hesitation. Elfreda sprang loyally into the breach.
"I'll ask Miss Atkins," she declared stoutly. "You notice, don't you, that I am not addressing her by her pet name? I'll conduct her to the reception and back, if she'll accept my manly arm, and buy her flowers into the bargain. So go ahead and invite Miss Evans, Grace."
"J. Elfreda Briggs, you can never manage that Miss Atkins," protested Miriam. "In the first place, she won't accept you as an escort, and if she should happen to do so, it will be a sorry evening for you."
"I'll take the risk," replied Elfreda confidently. "I managed her once before, didn't I? You girls go ahead and invite the others. Leave Miss Atkins to me. I'll escort her in triumph to the reception, or perish gallantly in the attempt."
"Do you really believe she will accept your invitation, Elfreda?" asked Grace doubtfully.
"I can tell you better after I have asked her," was Elfreda's flippant retort. "I have an idea that she will feel dreadfully hurt if no one asks her to go."
"Hurt!" exclaimed three voices in unison.
"Yes, hurt," repeated Elfreda. "The Anarchist isn't half so savage as she pretends to be. That blood-thirsty manner of hers isn't real. She puts it on to hide something else."
"But what is it she wishes to hide?" asked Miriam. "Your deductions are quite beyond us."
"If I knew I'd tell you. I don't pretend to understand her, but I can see that she isn't as fierce as she seems. Time and I will solve the riddle, and when we do you'll be the first to hear of it."
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