o-morrow, Valentine's day or not."

Bea stared pensively at the Topsy-like corona above the flushed face. "I
don't believe she ever puts her hair up in curlers now, do you? She is
superior to such vanities, and anyway, it is naturally curly, you know,
and that probably makes a difference. I wonder if she even stoops to
making verses. Do you suppose she sends valentines to other girls? Of
course, she doesn't care a snap whether she receives more than any, and
is declared the most popular senior. H'm-m-m!" drifting into reverie
afresh. "I dare say I could compose a poem on that idea. For instance:

"I know a senior all sedate--"

The umbrella bounced tempestuously across the floor, and was followed by
a pillow driven hard and straight at a tousled head that ducked just in
time.

"U-huh!" ferociously. "Well,

"I know a freshman, sure as fate!
Who shall no longer sit up late,
Because her long-suffering roommate--"

Here the gas flared suddenly into darkness, and slippered feet scurried
away from the desk. The door opened and shut quickly; and Bea, her
valentines clutched safely against her dressing gown, was speeding
through the dark corridors toward the senior parlor. There a kettle,
overflowing with bits of white, swung from a tripod before the shadowy
folds of the parlor portieres.

Ah! Bea, bending toward the caldron with arm extended, stiffened without
moving. She had heard something. Yes, there it was again--a muffled
footfall on the stairs near by. Hark! Down the black shaft from the cave
above came stealing a second slender figure in a flowing robe of some
pale woolly stuff. In her hands also was clasped a packet of envelopes.

"Hello, Berta!" Bea said.

"Oh, good-morning, Miss Leigh!" responded Berta, advancing with a tread
the stateliness of which was somewhat impaired by a loosely flapping
sole. "Did you rise early in order to prepare for the Latin test?"

Bea brushed aside the query with the contempt it deserved. "Are all those
for your senior? I don't think it's fair for you to copy verses out of
any old book, while every one of mine is original; and yet yours count
exactly as much. Well, anyway, I wouldn't send my senior anything that
was ordinary and unworthy of her acceptance. How many have you?"

This ignoble curiosity was likewise ignored by Miss Berta, who proceeded
with dignified slowness to drop her valentines one by one