"What am I going to do without you, Marjorie?" Mary Raymond's blue eyes looked suspiciously misty as she solemnly regarded her chum. "What am I going to do without you, you mean," corrected Marjorie Dean, with a wistful smile. "Please, please don't let's talk of it. I simply can't bear it." "One, two-only two more weeks now," sighed Mary. "You'll surely write to me, Marjorie?" "Of course, silly girl," returned Marjorie, patting her friend's arm affectionately. "I'll write at least once a week."

"Do you remember what you said one October day last year, Grace, when we stood on this platform and said good-bye to the boys?" asked Anne Pierson. "No, what did I say?" asked Grace Harlowe, turning to her friend Anne. "You said," returned Anne, "that when it came your turn to go to college you were going to slip away quietly without saying good-bye to any one but your mother, and here you are with almost half Oakdale at the train to see you off to college."

"Next to home, there is really nothing quite so satisfying as our dear old High School " exclaimed Grace Harlowe, as she entered the locker-room and beamed on her three friends who stood near by. "It does seem good to be back, even though we have had such a perfectly glorious summer," said Jessica Bright. "We are a notch higher, too. We're actually juniors. This locker-room is now our property, although I don't like it as well as the one we had last year."

"Anne, you will never learn to do a side vault that way. Let me show you," exclaimed Grace Harlowe. The gymnasium was full of High School girls, and a very busy and interesting picture they made, running, leaping, vaulting, passing the medicine ball and practising on the rings. In one corner a class was in progress, the physical culture instructor calling out her orders like an officer on parade.

"Overton, at last " exclaimed Grace Harlowe, as, regardless of possible cinders and stern railroad injunctions, she leaned far out of the car window to obtain a first eager glimpse of her destination. It was midsummer, and the quiet, little town of Overton drowsed gently, not to awaken until the sounds of girl laughter and the passing of light feet through its sleepy streets roused it to the realization that it was Overton College that made its hum-drum existence worth while.

"Oakdale won't seem like the same place. What shall we do without you?" exclaimed Grace Harlowe mournfully. It was a sunny afternoon in early October, and Grace Harlowe with her three chums, Anne Pierson, Nora O'Malley and Jessica Bright, stood grouped around three young men on the station platform at Oakdale. For Hippy Wingate, Reddy Brooks and David Nesbit were leaving that afternoon to begin a four years' course in an eastern college, and a number of relatives and friends had gathered to wish them godspeed.

"The skies must smile and the sun must shine When Semper Fidelis goes out to dine," sang Arline Thayer joyously as she rearranged her sofa pillows for the eighth time, patting each one energetically before placing it, then stepping back to view the effect. "Aren't you glad every one's here, and things have begun to happen again, Ruth?" she asked blithely. "I hope no one disappoints us. I wish this room were larger. Still, it held eighteen girls one night last year. Don't you remember my Hallowe'en party, and what a time we had squeezing in here?"

"Now, then, everyone join in the chorus," commanded Hippy Wingate. There was an answering tinkle from Reddy's mandolin, the deeper notes of a guitar sounded, then eight care-free young voices were raised in the plaintive chorus of "My Old Kentucky Home."

"Now, David, you know that I know that you don't know what I know. Therefore, if I know that you don't know what I know you don't know, it's very plain to be seen that either you or I know very little. Now, which of us is a know-nothing? Don't be afraid to confess. Remember, we are your friends." Hippy Wingate beamed benevolently upon his victim, bland expectation written on his plump face.

"Oh, there goes Grace Harlowe Grace Grace Wait a minute " A curly-haired little girl hastily deposited her suit case, golf bag, two magazines and a box of candy on the nearest bench and ran toward a quartette of girls who had just left the train that stood puffing noisily in front of the station at Overton. The tall, gray-eyed young woman in blue turned at the call, and, running back, met the other half way. "Why, Arline " she exclaimed. "I didn't see you when I got off the train." The two girls exchanged affectionate greetings; then Arline was passed on to Miriam Nesbit, Anne Pierson and...