tter which--to
haunt the corridors and grounds till we spied one of those girls headed
away from her room (of course we had to find out first where each one
lived), and then we scurried up-stairs and down and hung around in the
neighborhood and walked past the door, if anybody happened to be near,
and finally shoved the manuscript to its goal. Certainly I understand
that we were not obliged to take all this trouble but I simply could not
bear to send those long envelopes back through the post. Every student
who distributes the mail would have recognized such a parcel as a
rejected manuscript. And of course that would have hurt the author's
feelings.

Naturally I was rushed that week because Thanksgiving Day came on
Thursday, and I had an invitation to go down to the city to hear grand
opera that afternoon. It was necessary to take such an early train that I
missed the dinner. That evening when I returned I found the whole
editorial board and Berta too groaning in Lila's study while Laura acted
as amanuensis for a composite letter to Robbie Belle. You see, they had
eaten too much dinner--three hours at the table and everything too good
to skip. Each one tried to put a different groan into the letter. They
were so much interested in the phraseology and they felt so horrid that
nobody offered to get me crackers or cocoa, though I was actually
famishing.

After poking around in the family cupboard under the window seat, I
routed out a bag of popcorn. I lighted the gas stove and popped about
three quarts, and then boiled some sugar and water to crystallize it.
When you are starving, have you ever eaten popcorn buttered for a first
course and crystallized for a second? It is the most delicious thing! I
had just settled myself in a steamer-chair with the heaped up pan of
fluffy kernels within reach of my right hand, when there came a knock on
the door.

"Enter!" called Janet.

The knob turned diffidently and in marched Maria Mitchell Kiewit.

Lila pushed another pillow behind Jo on the couch, Laura lifted her pen,
Janet exerted herself to rise politely. I carelessly threw a newspaper
over the corn, and then poked it off. After all, editors are only human,
and freshmen might as well learn that first as last.

"I wish to see Miss Leigh," said the visitor in a high, very young voice
that quavered in the middle.

I straightened up into a dignified right angle. "What can I do for you,
Miss Kiewit?"

"I wish to withdraw m