"will you take some more
dancing pupils? I was telling two girls who board down the street about
our class and they said they wanted to learn before the reception and
would much rather come here than go to that big class that two seniors
have in the gym. But as they don't know you, they would insist on
paying, just as they would at the other class."

Betty looked doubtfully at Roberta. "Shall we?" she said.

"I don't mind," answered Roberta, "if only you all promise not to tell
my father. He wouldn't understand. Do you suppose Miss Watson would
play?"

"If not, I will," said Mary Rich.

"And we could use the money for a house spread," added Betty, "since we
all help to earn it."

"And christen the chafing-dish," put in Katherine.

"Good. Then I'll tell them--Mondays, Tuesdays and Fridays," said Rachel;
and the dinner-table dissolved.

CHAPTER IV

WHOSE PHOTOGRAPH?

The dancing class went briskly on; so did the Livy class and the
geometry, the English 1, the French required and the history elective.
The freshmen were getting acquainted with one another now, and seldom
confused their classmates with seniors or youthful members of the
faculty. They no longer attempted to go out of chapel ahead of the
seniors, or invaded the president's house in their frantic search for
Science Hall or the Art Gallery. For October was fast wearing away. The
hills about Harding showed flaming patches of scarlet, and it was time
for the sophomore reception and Mountain Day. Betty was very much
excited about the reception, but she felt also that a load would slip
off her shoulders when it was over. She was anxious about the progress
of the dancing pupils, who had increased to five, besides Helen and
Adelaide, and for whom she felt a personal responsibility, because the
Chapin house girls persisted in calling the class hers. And what would
father say if they didn't get their money's worth? Then there was
Helen's dress for the reception, which she was sure was a fright, but
couldn't get up the courage to inquire about. And last and worst of all
was the mysterious grind-book and Dorothy King's warning about father's
telegram to the registrar. She had never mentioned the incident to
anybody, but from certain annoying remarks that Mary Brooks let fall she
was sure that Mary knew all about it and that the sophomores were
planning to make telling use of it.

"How's your friend the registrar?" Mary would inquire solemnly every few