That frame of
mind could not last at seventeen. May, the most unsophisticated and
easily pleased of human beings, was won from her sad dreams of Redcross.
She was deeply obliged, she was faintly amused. At last she was fairly
launched on such a mild course of St. Ambrose gaieties as two girls in
a college could with grace pursue. This included tennis parties, rowing
parties, water-lily and fritillary hunts, "strawberries," concerts
instead of lectures in the afternoons as well as in the evenings,
afternoon teas--not _tete-a-tete_, not confined to a party of three,
but under what even Miss Lascelles would have considered sufficient
surveillance in the rooms of liberal heads of houses, hospitable young
dons, social, idle undergraduates. These had no more business on their
hands than could be summed up in cricket-matches or boat-races, and in
meeting Miss Vanhansen and listening to her queer unconventional
remarks.

At all these gatherings, May Millar in the budding beauty of seventeen
and the simplicity of her youthful dress, with her modesty and
_naivete_, was made very welcome. Soon she began to feel herself ashamed
of the extent to which she was enjoying herself, as she was swept along
by the stream.

She was able to write home now long letters full of girlish enthusiasm
over the kindness of Miss Vanhansen, and the beauties and delights of
St. Ambrose's. Dora, though greatly relieved in her ungrudging devotion
to May, to find that Tom Robinson's words were fulfilled, was still a
little puzzled to understand how May could find time for so many gay
doings, and her studies into the bargain. But Dr. and Mrs. Millar could
only be happy in the happiness of their child, and hug themselves on
having thought more of her welfare than of her feelings at the moment of
parting. It was right she should see all the charming sights which were
to be seen, and enter a little into the special attractions of the great
University town--_that_ would not prevent her from settling down and
doing her proper work presently. You might trust the lady principal and
a studious young creature like May, who liked to be busy with her books
far before any other occupation, with a great deal more license than
that came to.

Then a new turn was given to the dissipation in which May was dipping.
The longing in which she had indulged, ever since she had first heard of
its possible fulfilment, was granted--a Greek play was to be acted by
the young women