on Thanksgiving Day. With the help of Miss Thompson, who is a
frequent visitor at our house, we managed to find several high
school girls who needed cheering up. We invited them to
Thanksgiving dinner and had a little dance in the evening. Your
mother will write in a day or two and give you full particulars.

"I hope you enjoyed your trip to New York. I feel rather guilty,
now, because I didn't answer your letter at once. We will have one
of our good old talks when you come home for the Christmas
holidays. Then you may scold me, if you think I deserve it.

"Your mother and I are well, and are looking forward to your
home-coming next month. So is half the town, for that matter. Your
friends never forget to ask for you, and every day brings its, 'Is
Grace coming home for the holidays?' God bless you, my dear child,
and bring you safe home to us for Christmas. That is the gift we
most desire. With our dearest love,

"FATHER."

Grace's eyes were misty as she looked up from her letter. "Isn't he just
too splendid for words, Anne?"

Anne nodded, then, slipping her arm about Grace's neck, she leaned over
and kissed her friend's cheek. "I am so glad everything is all right."

"You knew better than any one else how dreadful it was for me," returned
Grace, looking up affectionately at her friend.

"We all know," answered Anne. "I think Elfreda took it even more deeply
to heart than we did. She is the soul of loyalty and resents an injury
to one of us as much as though it were her own grievance."

"In one way it seems a long time since J. Elfreda Briggs established
herself in my seat on the train, yet in another it seems but yesterday,"
mused Grace. "Can you realize, Anne, that we are almost at the end of
our college days?"

"I never allow myself to think of it," confessed Anne. "I've been so
happy at Overton I'd like to stay here forever."

"Give up the stage, and apply for a place on the faculty," suggested
Grace with apparent earnestness.

"You rascal! You know I couldn't do that even for the sake of being at
Overton. I am wedded to my art," proclaimed Anne dramatically.

"Some day you will obtain a divorce from your art and marry a mere man,
though," predicted Grace.

The color suffused Anne's white face. Her brown eyes grew troubled. "I
don't know whether I shall or not," she murmured.

"Anne, would you leave the stage, give up you