quote Heavy again), unless she were bareheaded, wore a tam-o'-shanter.

"The most popular thing in head covering at Ardmore this year, that is
sure," said Ruth.

"Oh! will you look at the one that Frayne girl is wearing?" Helen
gasped.

"Goodness!" said Heavy. "Looks like an Italian sunset."

"Or a badly scrambled egg," put in Helen. "There! I believe that girl
would look a fright whatever she put on."

"She can't help her taste, poor girl," Ruth said.

"My!" sighed Heavy. "I like to hear you talk, Ruth. You're as full of
excuses for everybody criticised as a chestnut is of meat," and she
nibbled one of the nuts in question as she spoke. Then:

"Wow! Oh, the nasty thing!"

Helen laughed uproariously. "Something besides meat in that chestnut,
Heavy. Did it squirm much?"

"Don't ask me," said the fleshy girl, gloomily. "Of such is life! 'I
never owned a gay gazelle----'"

"Cut it out. You never owned a gazelle of any kind," said Helen. "You
know you never did."

It was just here that the trio came upon a group of girls of whom Edith
Phelps was evidently the leader. It was opposite the gymnasium, under
the wide-spreading oaks that gave shade to that quarter of the campus.
The Briarwood girls had been about to enter the gymnasium building to
look around.

Edith and her friends were mostly in gymnasium costumes. They had been
tossing the medicine ball; but it was plain that they had gathered here
near the path the three freshmen friends followed, for a purpose.

"Oh, here comes the leading lady!" cried Edith Phelps, in a high and
affected voice. "Get set! Camera!"

The girls, or most of them, struck most ridiculous attitudes at Edie's
word, while an oblong, black box suddenly appeared, affixed upon a
tripod, and May MacGreggor, who was out for fun as much as any of the
sophomores, began to turn a tiny crank on one side of the box.

"Hi! what are you trying to do--you fat person there?" demanded Edie,
excitedly, imitating a movie director, and waving back the amazed and
somewhat angry Jennie Stone. "Want to crab the film?"

"Oh, the mean things!" gasped Helen, growing as red as though the joke
were aimed directly at herself.

"Cracky!" murmured the fleshy girl, who couldn't help seeing the
ridiculous side of it. "Isn't that funny?"

At the moment, too, a thin little tune began to wander from the black
box, none other than "The Wearing of the Green." Inside the box was one
of those little, old-fashione