ted to say you were a few minutes ago."

"No, I graduated last June," repeated Mary, a trifle sharply. "Here's
Miss Hildreth coming for my next dance. You can ask her. I'm her guest
this evening. Didn't I graduate last year, Babbie?"

Babbie stared uncomprehendingly for a moment. Then she remembered Mary's
plan.

"Why, you naughty little freshman!" she cried reprovingly. "Have you
been telling her that?"

Miss Butts looked dazedly from the amused and reproachful Babbie to
Mary, whose expression was properly cowed and repentant.

"Are you really a freshman?" she asked. "Why, I don't believe you are.
I--I don't know what to believe!"

Mary smiled at her radiantly. "Never mind," she said, "you'll know the
truth some day. Next fall at about this time I'll invite you to dinner,
and then you'll know all about me. Now good-bye."

Babbie regarded this speech as merely Mary's convenient little way of
getting rid of the stupid Miss Butts, who for her part promptly forgot
all about it. But Mary remembered, and she declared that the sight of
Miss Butts's face on the occasion of that dinner-party, with all its
rather remarkable accessories, was worth many evenings of boredom at
"girl dances."

It was not until Friday, that Mary's "little friends" caught her
red-handed, in an escapade that explained everything from the size of
her trunk to the puzzling insouciance of her manner. They all, and
particularly Roberta, had begun to feel a little hurt as the days went
by and Mary indulged in many mysterious absences and made unconvincing
excuses for refusing invitations that, as Katherine Kittredge said, were
enough to turn the head of a crown-princess. Friday, the day that had
been reserved for the expedition to Smuggler's Notch, dawned crisp and
clear, and some girls who had had dinner at Mrs. Noble's farm the night
before brought back glowing reports of the venison her brother had sent
her from Maine, and the roaring log fire that she built for them in the
fireplace of her new dining-room. So Roberta and Madeline hurried over
before chapel to ask Mary to reconsider. But she was firm in her
refusal. She had waked with a headache. Besides, she had letters to
write and calls to make on her faculty friends and the people she knew
in town.

The embassy returned, disconsolate, and reported its failure.

"It's just a shame," said Eleanor. "We've been saving that trip all the
fall, so that Mary could go."

"Let's just go without h