e you are going to be
happy at Overton. You feel blue just now because you are tired and
hungry. Let me fix your hair and we'll hurry to Vinton's as fast as ever
we can. I'm simply starved."

Mary Reynolds obediently sat on the chair Grace placed for her and the
hair dressing began. Grace and Emma both exclaimed in admiration as
Grace unbraided the soft-golden brown hair, which, once free, broke into
waves and curls.

"Did you ever see a prettier head of hair?" exclaimed Emma.

"I think it would look best combed low over her forehead, don't you?"
asked Grace.

Emma nodded her approval as Grace, with deft fingers, arranged the thick
curly locks in a strictly smart fashion which completely changed Mary
Reynolds' forlorn appearance.

"Now look in the glass," directed Grace, when she had finished.

Mary gazed earnestly at her new self. "It can't be me," she said with a
pardonable disregard of English.

"But it is," Grace assured her. "You must learn to do your hair like
that and wear it so. Now let me put a tiny bit of powder on your face to
scare away the tear stains and we'll be off."

The obnoxious helmet-like hat did not seem so unbecoming, now that
Mary's curls peeped from under it, and Grace felt a certain degree of
satisfaction in her efforts to make the new girl at least presentable.
She decided that once her large brown eyes had lost their scared,
anxious expression and her thin face had grown plump, Mary would be
really pretty.

During luncheon at Vinton's Grace quietly studied her charge. There was
something about Mary that reminded one of Ruth Denton, she decided. She
and Emma made every effort to put the prospective freshman at her ease.
By common consent they refrained from asking any questions likely to
produce another flood of tears. As for Mary herself, although visibly
embarrassed at the ultra-smartness of Vinton's, the attention of the
waiter, and the puzzling array of knives, forks and spoons, she managed,
by watching Grace and Emma, to acquit herself with credit. Thanks to
Emma's never-failing flow of humorous remarks the luncheon proved to be
a merry meal and before it ended the forlorn girl looked almost happy.

"I'll see you later," said Grace, as they paused for a moment in front
of Vinton's. "Emma, I leave Miss Reynolds in your care."

"I accept the responsibility," declared Emma, flourishing her parasol in
fantastic salute. "I'm going to march her home and put her to bed."

"While I