ace nodded. They were now too close to the young women for further
speech. A moment more and the bus containing the five girls had passed
the loitering pair. Neither side had made the slightest sign of
recognition. A sudden silence fell upon the little company in the bus.

"It is too bad to begin one's sophomore year by cutting two Overton
girls, isn't it?" said Grace, in a rueful tone.

"Overton girls!" sniffed Elfreda. "I consider neither Miss Wicks nor
Miss Hampton real Overton girls."

"They should be by this time," reminded Miriam Nesbit mischievously.
"They have been here a year longer than we have."

"Years don't count," retorted Elfreda. "It's having the true Overton
spirit that counts. You girls understand what I mean, even if Miriam
tries to pretend she doesn't."

"Of course we understand, Elfreda," soothed Anne. "Miriam was merely
trying to tease you."

"Don't you suppose I know that?" returned Elfreda. "I know, too, that
you don't wish me to say anything against those two girls. All right, I
won't, but I warn you, I'll keep on thinking uncomplimentary things
about them. Last June, after that ghost party, I promised Grace I would
never try to get even with Alberta Wicks and Mary Hampton, but I didn't
promise to like them, and if they attempt to interfere with me this
year, they'll be sorry."

"Oh, there's the campus!" exclaimed Arline as, turning into College
Street, the long green slope, broken at intervals by magnificent old
trees, burst upon their view. "Hello, Overton Hall!" she cried, waving
her hand to that stately building. "Doesn't the campus look like green
plush, though! I love every inch of it, don't you?" She looked at her
companions and, seeing the light from her face reflected on theirs,
needed no verbal answer to her question. A moment later she signaled to
the driver to stop the bus. "I shall have to leave you here," she said.
"I'll see you at Vinton's at six-thirty."

Grace handed out her luggage to her, saying: "You have so much to carry,
Arline. Shall I help you?"

"Mercy, no," laughed Arline. "'Every woman her own porter,' is my
motto." Opening her suit case she stuffed the candy and magazines into
it, snapping it shut with a triumphant click. Then with it in one hand,
her golf bag in the other, she set off across the campus at a swinging
pace.

"She's little, but she has plenty of independence and energy," laughed
Miriam. "Hurrah, girls, there's Wayne Hall just ahead of us."