e same train," she added with a nervous laugh.

Eleanor turned white. "Nonsense!" she said sharply. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you said you hadn't done anything about your conditions, and
you've cut and flunked and scraped along much as I have, I fancy."

"I'm sorry, Caroline," said Eleanor, ignoring the digression. "I don't
know that you care, though. You've said you were bored to death up
here."

"I--I say a great deal that I don't mean," gulped Caroline. "Good-bye,
Eleanor. Shall I see you in New York at Christmas? And don't
forget--trouble with my eyes. Oh, the family won't mind. They didn't
like my coming up in the first place. I shall go abroad in the spring.
Good-bye."

Eleanor walked swiftly back through the campus. In the main building she
consulted the official bulletin-board with anxious eyes, and fairly tore
off a note addressed to "Miss Eleanor Watson, First Class." It had
come--a "warning" in Latin. Once back in her own room, Eleanor sat down
to consider the situation calmly. But the more she thought about it, the
more frightened and ashamed she grew. Thanksgiving was next week, and
she had been given only until Christmas to work off her entrance
conditions. She had meant to leave them till the last moment, rush
through the work with a tutor, and if she needed it get an extension of
time by some specious excuse. Had the last minute passed? The Latin
warning meant more extra work. There were other things too. She had
"cut" classes recklessly--three on the day of the sophomore reception,
and four on a Monday morning when she had promised to be back from
Boston in time for chapel. Also, she had borrowed Lil Day's last year's
literature paper and copied most of it verbatim. She could make a
sophistical defence of her morals to Betty Wales, but she understood
perfectly what the faculty would think about them. The only question
was, how much did they know?

When the dinner-bell rang, Eleanor pulled herself together and started
down-stairs.

"Did you get your note, Miss Watson?" asked Adelaide Rich from the
dining-room door.

"What note?" demanded Eleanor sharply.

"I'm sure I can't describe it. It was on the hall table," said Adelaide,
turning away wrathfully. Some people were so grateful if you tried to do
them a favor!

It was this incident which led Eleanor to hurry off after dinner, and
again at the end of the play, bound to escape nerve-racking questions
and congratulations. Later, when Betty