es."

Kathleen was approaching their table, a bored look on her small, sharp
face. "How are you?" she said nonchalantly. "I thought I'd come over
here. Having tea alone is dull. Don't you think so?"

Arline's blue eyes rested on the intruder for the fraction of a second.
She resented the intrusion.

"Miss West, this is Miss Thayer, of the junior class," introduced Grace
good-naturedly. Both girls bowed. There was an awkward silence, broken
by Kathleen's abrupt, "I knew I had seen you before, Miss Thayer," to
Arline.

"That is quite possible," said Arline, rather stiffly. "I believe I
remember passing you on the campus."

"Oh, I don't mean here at Overton," drawled Kathleen. "I saw you in New
York with your father last summer."

"With my father?" was Arline's surprised interrogation.

"Yes. Isn't Leonard B. Thayer your father?"

"Why, how did you know? Have you met my father?" Arline's blue eyes
opened wider.

"I've seen him," said Kathleen laconically. "I tried to interview him
once, but couldn't get past his secretary."

"Miss West is a newspaper woman, Arline," explained Grace. "That is, she
was one. She has deserted her paper for Overton, however."

"How interesting," responded Arline courteously. "Do you like college,
Miss West?"

"Fairly well," answered Kathleen. "It doesn't really matter whether I
like it or not. I am here for business, not pleasure. Perhaps Miss
Harlowe has told you how I happened to be here."

"Miss Thayer and I had some weighty class matters to discuss," said
Grace, smiling a little. "We weren't talking of any one in particular.
Miss Thayer did inquire your name when she saw me bow to you. I answered
just as you came toward us," added Grace honestly.

"I knew you were talking about me," declared Kathleen flippantly. "One
can always feel when one is being discussed."

A quick flush rose to Grace's cheeks. Usually tolerant toward everyone,
she felt a decided resentment stir within her at this cold-blooded
assertion that she and Arline had been gossiping.

Arline's blue eyes sent forth a distinctly hostile glance. "You were
mistaken, Miss West," she said coldly. "What was said of you was
entirely impersonal."

"Oh, I don't doubt that in the least," Kathleen hastened to say. She had
decided that the daughter of Leonard B. Thayer was worth cultivating. "I
am sorry you misunderstood me; but do you know, when you made that last
remark you looked as your father did the day he woul