e girls intend to give. We might go to Vinton's for supper on
Thanksgiving night. If we have a Thanksgiving dinner here that day it's
safe to say supper won't amount to much. I think----"

Grace did not finish with what she was saying. A quick step sounded down
the hall and an instant later Anne ran into the room waving an open
letter in her hand. "Girls, girls!" she cried, "you never can guess!"

"What is it? Tell us at once," commanded Grace, springing from her
chair. "You've received good news from some one we know."

"Yes," replied Anne happily. "My letter is from Miss Southard. She
wishes us to spend Thanksgiving with her and her brother in New York
City. Isn't that glorious, and do you think we'll be allowed to go?"

"Hurrah!" cried Grace. "Since we can't go home, it's the very nicest
sort of plan. I think we'll be allowed to go. We haven't any conditions
to work off, and I haven't planned to do any extra studying either.
Thank goodness, my allowance had an extra ten dollars attached to it
this month. Mother wrote that she thought I might need the money, and I
do. I couldn't possibly have stretched my regular allowance over this
trip."

"I have money enough, I think," said Miriam. "I am a thrifty soul. I
saved ten dollars out of my last month's allowance. It was really extra
money that I had asked Mother for. I intended to buy a sweater and then
changed my mind."

"The expenses of my trip will have to come out of my college money,"
confessed Anne, a trifle soberly, "but I'd be willing to spend twice
that much to see the Southards. Mr. Southard is playing 'Hamlet' and so
we shall have the opportunity of seeing him in what the critics consider
his greatest part."

"Remember, we haven't asked permission to go, yet," remarked Grace.

"The registrar couldn't be so cruel as to refuse us," said Miriam
cheerfully. "Let's besiege her fortress in a body."

"When shall we make our plea?"

"To-morrow morning after chapel," suggested Anne. "Then we'll have more
time to plan our trip."

The registrar's office was duly besieged the next morning, as agreed,
and the three girls hurried off to their classes with beaming faces.
When they returned to Wayne Hall after recitations that afternoon it was
to find Elfreda hanging over the railing in the upstairs hall, an
unusually solemn expression on her face.

"Are you going?" she called down anxiously. "Yes," nodded Grace. "At
three o'clock Wednesday afternoon."

Elfreda