es will
find their own best ways of keeping up the right spirit at Harding? I
vote that the 'Merry Hearts' has done its work and had its little fling,
and that it would better go out when we do."

"Then it ought to go out in a regular blaze of glory," said Bob, when
murmurs of approval had greeted Madeline's opinion.

"I know a way." Betty spoke out almost before she thought, and then she
blushed vividly, fearing that she had been too hasty and that the "Merry
Hearts" might not approve of her plan.

"Is it one of the things you thought of while you were being run away
with?" asked Madeline quizzically.

Betty laughed and nodded. "You'd better make a list of the things I
thought of, Miss Ayres, if the subject interests you so much."

"Was there one for every scratch on your face?" asked Katherine.

Betty drew herself up with a comical affectation of offended dignity. "I
almost wish I'd broken my collar-bone, as Bob thought I ought to. Then
perhaps I should get a little sympathy."

"And where would the costumes for the play have been, with you laid up
in the infirmary for a month?" demanded Babbie with a groan.

"Do you know that's the very thing I worried about most when Lady was
running," began Betty, so earnestly that everybody laughed again.

"Just the same it wouldn't have been any joke, would it, about those
costumes," said Bob, when the mirth had subsided, "nor about all the
other committee work that you've done and that nobody else knows much
about."

"Not even to mention that we should hate to have anything happen to you
for purely personal reasons," said Madeline, shivering in the warm
sunshine as she remembered how that dreadful pile of white stones had
glistened in the moonlight.

"I think this class would better pass a law: No more riding by prominent
seniors," declared Katherine Kittredge. "If Emily Davis should get
spilled, there would go our good young Gobbo and our Ivy Day orator,
besides nobody knows how much else."

"Christy is toastmistress and Antonio."

"Kate is chairman of the supper committee and Portia."

"Everybody who's anything is a lot of things, I guess," said little
Helen Adams. She herself was in the mob that made the background for the
trial scene in "The Merchant of Venice," and she was as elated over her
part as any of the chief actors could possibly be over their leading
roles. But that wasn't all. She was trying for the Ivy song, which is
chosen each year by competitio