r 'em. But you have no sense
of humor. What's the good of telling you anything? Molly, there,
understands my feelings, I am sure."

Molly was not listening. She was making calculations at her desk with a
blunt pencil on a scrap of paper.

"I've got as good a sense as you have," cried Nance hotly, "only I don't
approve of being humorous about sacred things."

"Nonsense," broke in Judy, "don't you know, child, that you can't limit
humor? It spreads over every subject and it's not necessarily profane
because it touches on clothes at church. I suppose you think there is
nothing funny about the Reverend Gustavus Adolphus Larsen, and you have
forgotten how you giggled that Sunday when he announced from the pulpit
that his text was taken from St. Paul's 'Efistle to the Epeesians.'"

"He's always getting mixed," here put in Molly, who at certain stages in
the warm discussions between Nance and Judy always sounded a pacifying
note. "They do say that he was talking to Miss Walker about one of the
faculty pews, and he said: 'Do you occupew this pi?'"

This was too much for Nance's severity, and she broke down and laughed
gaily with the others.

"He's a funny little man," she admitted, "but he's well meaning."

"Hurry up," admonished Judy; "it's twenty minutes of four and I want to
get a good seat this afternoon."

"You want to show off your new fashionable headgear, you mean, Miss
Vanity," said Nance, pinning on her neat brown velvet toque and
squinting at herself in the mirror.

"Oh, me," thought Molly, "I wish I had a decent garment to show off."

She had intended to buy some clothes that autumn from a purchasing agent
who came several times a year to Wellington with catalogues and samples,
but she had been afraid to spend any of the money she had earned because
of the precarious state of the family finances.

She ran her hatpin through her old soft gray felt, which had a bright
blue wing at one side, and slipped on the coat of her last winter's gray
suit. Then she drew white yarn gloves over her kid ones, because she had
no muff and her hands were always frozen, and stoically marched across
the campus with her friends.

The Chapel was already crowded when the girls arrived. They had not
heard that the Rev. Gustavus's pulpit was to be filled that afternoon by
a preacher from New York. At any rate, they had to sit in the little
balcony, which commanded a better view of the minister than it did of
the congregation. H