“The Sophomore Class.”

Grace handed the note to Miriam.

“What do you think of it?” asked Miriam, looking up from the last line.

“I don’t know what to think,” rejoined Grace.  “It doesn’t seem as though a whole class would rise up to settle what is really a personal affair.  Even though the sophomores are angry, they have no right to threaten Elfreda and advise her to leave Overton.  If the dean knew of this affair I am afraid there would be war indeed.”

“Shall I tell her?” asked Elfreda eagerly.  “I think I’d better; then they won’t dare to make me leave college.”

“Listen to me, Elfreda,” said Grace firmly.  “No one can make you leave college unless you fail in your studies or do something really reprehensible, but there is one thing you must make up your mind to do if you wish to stay here, and have the girls like you.”

“What is it?” inquired Elfreda suspiciously.

“You mustn’t tell tales,” was Grace’s frank answer.  “No matter what the girls do or say to you, don’t carry it to the officials of the college.”

“Do you mean that I’m to submit to all kinds of insults and not take my own part?” demanded Elfreda, forgetting her grief and assuming a belligerent air.

“You are not fighting your own battles when you carry your grievances to the dean, the registrar, or any other member of the faculty,” said Grace gravely.  “You are merely giving them unpleasant information to which they dislike to listen.”

“Humph!” was the contemptuous ejaculation.  “The dean made it hot for the girls just the same.  I guess she didn’t object much to hearing about it.”

“You are not looking at things in their true light, Elfreda,” put in Miriam.  “I’ll venture to say that when the members of the faculty were students they were just as careful not to tell tales as are the girls here to-day.  Of course, if students are reported to them, they are obliged to take action in the matter, but I’m sure that they’d rather not hear about the girls’ petty difficulties.”

“‘Petty difficulties!’” almost screamed Elfreda.  “Well, I like your impudence.”  Jerking herself from the girls’ embrace she stood up and walked to the other side of the room.  Stumbling over one of her shoes she kicked it viciously aside, then, leaning her head against the door, her sobs broke forth afresh.

In a twinkling Miriam was beside her.  “Poor Elfreda,” she soothed.  “You are tired and worn out.  Take off your hat and coat and bathe your face.  You’ll feel ever so much better after you’ve done that.  You mustn’t be cross with Grace and me.  We are only trying to help you.  While you are bathing your face, I’ll make some chocolate and we’ll have a cozy little time.  Won’t that be nice?”

Elfreda nodded, winked back her tears, and slowly drawing the pins from her hat, flung it on the foot of her bed.  Her coat followed, and seizing her towel from the rack she stalked out of the room and down the hall to the bath room.