ney she is so
crude and slangy. She doesn't seem to have any ideals or much principle
either. Yet there is something sturdy and frankly independent about her,
too, that makes one think she's worth bothering with after all."

"How did her father make his money?" asked Grace.

"Lumber," replied Miriam. "They own tracts of timber land in Michigan.
Elfreda can have anything she asks for."

Grace sat down on Miriam's bed, her chin in her hands. She was thinking
of the note she had just read and wondering what had better be done.
Miriam, despite her avowal that she was tired of picking up her
roommate's scattered clothing, busied herself with reducing Elfreda's
half of the room to some semblance of order. Going to the closet, she
took down an elaborate Japanese silk kimono and laid it across the foot
of Elfreda's bed.

"What had we better do about this note?" Grace asked, picking it up from
the table and re-reading it.

"What do you think?" questioned Miriam.

"I think we had better ask the advice of some upper class girl," said
Grace. "I'm going to see Mabel Ashe to-morrow morning. I'll tell her
about it. Elfreda mustn't be cheated out of her right to go to the
reception."

"But if the whole sophomore class objects to her, what then?"

"I don't believe the whole sophomore class does object to her," returned
Grace. "I have a curious conviction that not many of them know her even
by sight. I think that this note was written for spite."

"Do you think Miss Wicks and Miss Hampton wrote it?" queried Miriam.

"I don't want to accuse any one of writing it, but they are the only
students who would have an object in doing so," declared Grace. "I hear
Elfreda coming down the hall. Don't say anything more about it just
now," she added in a lower tone.

"My goodness, I forgot all about the chocolate!" exclaimed Miriam,
scurrying to a little oak cabinet in one corner of the room and taking
out the necessary ingredients. "Here, Grace, open this can of evaporated
cream with the scissors. You can use that paperweight for a hammer."

Fifteen minutes later, wrapped in the folds of her kimono, J. Elfreda
sat drinking chocolate and devouring cakes as though her very existence
depended upon it.

"You girls are ever so much nicer than I thought you'd be," she said
reflectively, between cakes. "I must say that I'm agreeably disappointed
in you, Miriam. I was pretty sure you were a regular snob, but you're
nothing like one. I couldn