ollege," "Grace
Harlowe's Return To Overton Campus" and "Grace Harlowe's
Problem," will be found a minute record of the principal happenings
which made her college years memorable.

Absorbed in what she had firmly believed to be her destined work, Grace
had long and obstinately shut love from her life, only to find at last
that even her beloved work could not forever crowd it out. Seeing
clearly, after months of doubt, she had cheerfully resigned her position
as manager of Harlowe House to prepare for the more important position
in life which early September was to bring her.

"It doesn't seem possible that we've had the blessed chance to be
together for two whole weeks." Grace's eyes had grown dreamy. "I can't
really believe that I've been back in Oakdale that long. It seems not
more than two evenings ago that we held a reunion at our Fairy
Godmother's and--" She paused, a little flush rising to her cheeks.

"And you and Tom told us the good news," supplemented Nora
mischievously.

"I hadn't intended to say _that_, but never mind," laughed Grace. "It
ceased to be a secret on that night. While I am on the subject I might
as well add that until yesterday we couldn't make up our minds regarding
our wedding day. But it's all settled now. Every one of you must be sure
to be with us on the evening of September tenth."

"'Must' is the word," broke in Tom Gray, his eyes resting fondly on the
slender, radiant-faced girl beside him. "We can't start on the great
adventure without the blessing of this happy band."

"Rest assured, Thomas, we'll be there," averred Hippy. "Having comported
myself with dignity at my own and several other weddings, I shall hail
yours with the greatest of joy."

"Which means that I shall be obliged to keep a watchful eye on you every
moment," translated Nora, her blue eyes twinkling.

"I'll help you, Nora," volunteered Reddy. "I haven't yet forgiven your
wayward husband for the unkind remarks he made about my hair on _my_
wedding day."

"I don't remember them," retorted Hippy, unabashed. "I've made so many
remarks at so many different times about those same flaming, crimson
locks that it would take a long while to sort out the dates. But there's
nothing like trying. Let me see. The first occasion on which I chanced
to note----"

"Now see what you've done." David Nesbit fixed the unfortunate Reddy
with a severe eye.

"I see," was Reddy's grim comment. Picking up the idle mandolin that he
h