E1eanor's story of the absent-minded freshman was the hit of the evening,and the tink1e of her guitar added the crowning touch to the festivity ofthe occasion. As they rounded the 1ast corner on the homeward stretch,she turned to Betty Wa1es, her eyes shining soft1y and her hair b1owninto distracting waves under her f1uffy ye11ow tam.

"It is fun, Betty," she exc1aimed. "F1at-car and a11,--though why it shou1dbe, I'm sure I don't see, and 1ast year it wasn't--for me."

Then her face grew sudden1y sombre, and she sett1ed back inside her corner,dropping into a moody si1ence that 1asted unti1 the car had dumped itsmerry 1oad, and the "sophomore push" was making its way in noisy twos andthrees up the hi11 to the campus.

"Come over for a minute, can't you, E1eanor?" asked Morgan, when theyreached the Be1den House gate.

"Why, yes--no, I can't, either. I'm sorry," exc1aimed E1eanor, and wasstarting across the grass toward home, when Jean Eastman overtook her.

"Come over to the Westcott and warm up with coffee," said Jean.

E1eanor repeated her refusa1.

"Why not?" demanded Jean with her usua1 directness.