Miriam smiled to herself, but said nothing.  She knew that Grace already possessed a talent for making friends and an ability to see not only her own way clearly, but to smooth the pathway of those weaker than herself that was little short of marvelous.  She knew, too, that before the end of the school year Grace’s remarkable personality was sure to make itself felt among her fellow students.

“What are you smiling to yourself about, Miriam?” demanded Grace.

But at this juncture the door was burst violently open and J. Elfreda Briggs dashed into the room, threw herself face downward on her disordered bed and gave way to a long, anguished wail.

CHAPTER VI

A DISTURBING NOTE

Miriam and Grace sprang to their feet, regarding the sobbing, moaning girl in blank amazement.

“What on earth is the matter, Elfreda,” said Miriam.

The answer was another long wail that made the girls glance apprehensively toward the door.

“She’ll have to be more quiet,” said Grace, “or else every girl in the house will hear her and come in to inquire what has happened.”  Going over to the couch, she knelt beside Elfreda and said almost sharply, “Elfreda, stop crying at once.  Do you want all the girls in the house to hear you?”

“I don’t care,” was the discouraging answer, but in a lower tone, nevertheless; but she continued to sob heart-brokenly.

“Tell me about it, Elfreda,” said Grace more gently, taking one of the girl’s limp hands in hers.  “Something dreadful must have happened.  Have you had bad news from home?”

“No-o-o,” gasped the stout girl.  “It’s the sophomores.  I can’t go to the reception.  They won’t let me.”  Her sobs burst forth afresh.

Grace rose from her knees, casting a puzzled glance toward Miriam.  “I wonder what she means.”  Then placing her hands on Elfreda’s shoulders she raised her to a sitting position on the couch and dropping down beside her put one arm over her shoulder.  Miriam promptly sat down on the other side, and being thus supported and bolstered by their sympathetic arms, Elfreda gulped, gurgled, sighed and then said with quivering lips, “I wish I had taken your advice, Grace.”

“About what?” asked Grace.  Then, the same idea occurring to them simultaneously, Miriam and Grace exchanged dismayed glances.  Elfreda had come to grief through reporting the two mischievous sophomores to the registrar.

“About telling the registrar,” faltered Elfreda, unrolling her handkerchief from the ball into which she had rolled it and wiping her eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” Grace said with quick sympathy.

“You’re not half so sorry as I am,” was the tearful retort.  “I’ll write to Pa and Ma that I want to go home next week.  They’ll make a fuss, but they’ll send for me.”

“Are your father and mother very anxious that you should stay here?” asked Miriam.