ant
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."

CHAPTER VII

GIRLS AND THEIR IDEALS

Directly after her last class the next day, Grace hurried to her room to
change her gown. She looked forward with eager pleasure to her evening
with Mabel Ashe. She was deeply attached to the pretty senior, who was
the best-liked girl in college, and Grace could not help feeling a
trifle proud of Mabel's frank enjoyment of her society. Anne, knowing
Grace was to be away, had accepted an invitation to go down to Ruth
Denton's little room, help her cook supper, and spend the evening with
her.

"Oh, dear," sighed Grace, as she tried vainly to reach the two hooks of
her dark blue charmeuse gown that seemed only a sixteenth of an inch out
of reach, "I wish Anne were here. I can touch these two hooks with the
ends of my fingers but I can't fasten them. I'll have to ask Mabel to
hook me up when I get to Holland House." Giving up in disgust, Grace
slipped into her long, blue serge coat, carefully adjusted her new fall
hat that she had just received from home, and catching up her gloves ran
downstairs.

Mabel Ashe's graceful, welcoming figure leaning over the baluster
waiting for her was the first thing that attracted her attention as she
stepped inside the hall at Holland House.

"Come right up," invited Mabel. "We'll have a little while together
before dinner. Did you bring your notebook?"

"Yes," replied Grace. "Remember, you are to help me choose a subject for
my theme. You volunteered, you know."

"Not until after dinner, though, if you don't mind. Sit down here and be
comfy. This is my pet chair, but I insist on letting you have it because
you are company." She gently pushed Grace into a roomy leather-covered
armchair. Seating herself opposite Grace, Mabel fixed her brown eyes
almost gravely on her. "Now, Grace," she said earnestly, "please tell me
about this Miss Atkins o