Betty. "It seems to be just the opposite with me,"
and she plunged into her note to Jack, which must be ready for the next
morning's post.

All that week Helen went about fairly wreathed in smiles. Her shyness
seemed to have vanished suddenly. She joined gaily in the basket-ball
gossip at the table, came out into the hall to frolic with the rest of
the house at ten o'clock, and in general acted as a happy,
well-conducted freshman should.

The Chapin house brought its amazement over the "dig's" frivolity to
Betty, but she had very little to tell them. "All I know is that she's
awfully pleased about being a friend of T. Reed's. And oh yes--she's
invited out to dinner next Sunday. But of course there must be something
else."

"Perhaps she's going to have a man up for the concert," suggested
Katherine flippantly.

"Are you?" inquired Mary Rich, and with that the regeneration of Helen
was forgotten in the far more absorbing topic of the Glee Club concert.

Sunday came at last. "I'm not going to church, Betty," said Helen shyly.
"I want to have plenty of time to get dressed for dinner."

"Yes, indeed," said Betty carelessly. She had just received an absurd
letter from Jack. He was coming "certain-sure"; he wanted to see her
about a very serious matter, he said. "Incidentally" he should be
delighted to go to the concert. There was a mysterious postscript
too:--"How long since you got so fond of Bob Winchester?"

"I never heard of any such person. What do you suppose he means?" Betty
asked Mary Brooks as they walked home from church together. Mary had
also invited a Harvard man to the concert and Dorothy King had found
them both seats, so they were feeling unusually friendly and
sympathetic.

"I can't imagine. Do let me see his letter," begged Mary. "He must be no
end of fun."

"He's a worse tease than you," said Betty, knocking on her door.

"Come in," called Helen Chase Adams eagerly. "Betty, would you please
hook my collar, and would one of you see what time it really is? I don't
like to depend too much on my watch."

"She'll be at least ten minutes too early," sighed Betty, when Helen had
finally departed in a flutter of haste. "And see this room! But I
oughtn't to complain," she added, beginning to clear up the dresser.
"I'm always leaving it like this myself; but someway I don't expect it
of Helen."

"Who asked her to dinner to-day?" inquired Mary Brooks. She had been
sitting in a retired corner, vastly en