active," said the President,
looking down between the interstices of garlands of Japanese lanterns
on the scene of whirling dancers below. "The banners are really
beautiful. I feel quite proud of my sophomores this evening."

The sophomores were proud of themselves and worked hard to make the
freshmen have a good time and feel at home. Molly, remembering her own
timidity of the year before, took care that there were no wall flowers
this gala evening.

She had invited Madeleine Petit, a lonely little Southern girl, who had
a room over the post office in the village and was working her way
through college somehow. In spite of her own depleted purse, Molly had
sent Madeleine a bunch of violets and had hired a carriage for the
evening. As for the little freshman, she was ecstatic with pleasure. She
never dreamed that her sophomore escort was nearly as poor as she was.
People of Molly's type never look poor. The richness of her coloring,
her red gold hair and deep blue eyes and a certain graciousness of
manner overcame all deficiencies in the style and material of her
lavender organdy frock.

But, in spite of her glowing cheeks and outward gaiety, Molly was far
from being happy that night. No word had come to her from her family all
the week, although they were the most prolific letter writers, all of
them. No doubt they hesitated for a while to let her know the truth
about the Square Deal Mine. Molly was prepared for anything; prepared to
give up college at mid-years and get a position to teach school in the
country somewhere; prepared to look the worst in the face bravely. But
Wellington was like a second home to her now. She loved its twin gray
towers, its classic quadrangle and beautiful cloisters; its spacious
campus shaded with elm trees.

How dear these things had grown to her now that the thought of leaving
them forced its way into her mind!

She was debating these questions inwardly, as she gallantly led her
partner over to the lemonade table, where Mary Stewart, in a beautiful
liberty dress of pigeon blue that matched her eyes, was presiding with
Judith Blount and two other juniors.

"Why, Molly Brown," exclaimed Mary, "in spite of all your glowingness,
you don't seem quite like yourself this evening. Has anything happened
to roughen your gentle disposition? No bad news from home, I hope?"

"Oh, no," returned Molly. "No news at all. I haven't heard all week."

Judith, who still had a grudge against Queen's