student who put in all her time with music--who sat for
hours producing the most marvelous tones from instruments where other
girls drew discords--who would sit all day at the piano, and not find the
time long; and who spent her leisure in dawdling over sofas, or playing
practical jokes on every one about her. She was a long-limbed, fair-haired
girl, with a touch of wit from some remote ancestor who must have had O'
tacked to his name, and a great inaptitude toward books. She could play.
Exeter had never before boasted such skill as hers. Her fame had spread
over the state. But other lessons were impossible.

The subject of the guests was not brought up again between the roommates.
Mary had a successful interview with the matron, and returned to her rooms
with cream for cocoa, and a few forks and spoons, borrowing cups and
plates from the girls in the hall. Elizabeth had a class late in the
afternoon. When she came back she found the work she planned already done.
She started off immediately to issue her invitations.

The rooms occupied by Min and Landis were nearest her own. She stopped
there first. She found the girls busy, Landis at the study-table, putting
the last touches to a composition for the following day's rhetoric. Min
was sitting on a low chair by the window, sewing braid on the bottom of a
dress-skirt. Unconsciously, Elizabeth gave the article in Min's hand a
second glance, and recognized it as the skirt Landis generally wore to
class.

Landis, whose eye was quick to note all that occurred in her presence,
caught the second glance. "Isn't Min good?" she asked. "She is putting a
new braid on my everyday skirt. I caught my heel in it yesterday and
ripped the binding almost off. If there is one piece of work which I
detest above another, it is putting on braids."

"How about Min?" asked Elizabeth. "Does she enjoy it?"

"She doesn't _dislike_ it," was the response. "She likes to be busy, and
is quite as content to be at that as at some of the greater things of
life. Min does that for me, and I'm left free to do a line of work which
would not claim her." As she spoke, she arose and moved from the table.
Before doing so, she was careful to lay a book across the top of the page
on which she had been writing. She might have placed it there to keep the
papers from being scattered over the room, but it looked more as though
she placed it in a position to hide the title. She sank down in a low
chair beside Elizab