e.

Louise Sampson was perhaps better fitted to be president of the Harlowe
House Club than any other member of that interesting household. Emma
and Grace had agreed upon the point when, before the election, the
former's name had been mentioned as a probable candidate. This thought
sprang again to Grace's mind as she came from her office and saw Louise
still standing before the bulletin board, apparently deep in thought.
She turned at the sound of Grace's step.

"Oh, Miss Harlowe!" she exclaimed. "I do hope our meeting to-night will
be a success. Surely some one will have a real live idea for the club to
act upon."

"Thirty-four heads are better than one," smiled Grace. "There is
inspiration in numbers."

"We did wonderfully well with the caramels last year, and this year I
believe they will be more popular than ever. We made twice as many as
usual last Saturday, and sold them all. We were obliged to disappoint
quite a number of girls, too. Our little bank account is growing slowly
but surely. Still there are certainly other things we can do to earn
money, collectively and individually. Really I mustn't get started on
the subject. It is time I went to my chemistry recitation. You'll be at
the meeting to-night, won't you, Miss Harlowe? We couldn't get along
without you."

A faint flush rose to Grace's cheeks at Louise's parting remark. How
wonderful it was to feel that one was really useful. Yes; the
thirty-four girls under her care really needed her. They needed her far
more than did Tom Gray. Grace frowned a trifle impatiently. She had not
intended to allow herself to think of Tom, yet there was something in
the expression of Louise Sampson's gray eyes that reminded her of him.
Resolving to put him completely out of her mind, Grace went into the
kitchen to consult with the cook concerning the day's marketing. The
postman's ring, however, caused her to hurry back to her office where
the maid was just depositing her morning mail on the slide of her desk.

Her letters were from Anne, Elfreda and her mother, and they filled her
with unalloyed pleasure. Her mother's unselfish words, "I hope my little
girl is finding all the happiness life has to offer in her work,"
thrilled her. How different was her mother's attitude from that of Tom
Gray. Surely no one could miss her as her mother missed her, yet she had
given her up without a murmur, while Tom had protested bitterly against
her beloved work and prophesied that som