“Shall we dance?” said Edith, rising and offering her arm in her most manly fashion.  A moment later the two girls joined the dancers, who were circling the floor with more or less grace to the strains of a waltz.

“What kind of a time are you having?” asked Grace an hour later as she and Miriam met in front of one of the lemonade bowls.

“I’m enjoying it ever so much,” was the enthusiastic answer.  “I’ve met a lot of sophomores that I’ve been wanting to know, and they have been so nice to me.  Have you seen Elfreda lately?”

“No,” said Grace with a guilty start.  “I’ve been having such a good time I forgot her.  Let’s go and find her now.”

The two began a slow promenade of the room in search of the missing girl.  Suddenly Grace clutched her friend’s arm.  “Look over there, Miriam!” she exclaimed.

Seated on a divan beside Mabel Ashe and surrounded by half a dozen sophomores was J. Elfreda.  She was talking animatedly and the girls were urging her on with laughter and cries of “Now show us how some one else in Fairview looks.”

“What do you suppose she is saying?” wondered Miriam.  “Let’s go over.”  They neared the group just in time to hear Elfreda say, “The president of the Fairview suffragist league.”  Then her round face set as though turned to stone.  Her eyes took on a determined glare, and drawing down the corners of her mouth she elevated her chin, rose from the divan and shrilled forth “Votes for Women” in a tone that fairly convulsed her hearers.  Then suddenly catching sight of Grace and Miriam she sat down abruptly and said with an embarrassed gesture of dismissal, “The show’s over.  I see my friends are looking for me.  I’ll have to go.”

“You funny, funny girl!” exclaimed Mabel Ashe.  “What a treasure you’ll be when we give college entertainments.  You’ll make the Dramatic Club some day.”

“Nothing like it,” returned Elfreda, resorting to slang in her embarrassment.

“Where did you ever learn to mimic people so cleverly?” asked one sophomore.

“Oh, I don’t know,” replied Elfreda almost rudely.  “I’ve imitated folks ever since I was a kid—­little girl,” she corrected.  “You said you’d waltz with me to-night, Miriam, so come on.  That’s a Strauss waltz, and I don’t want to miss it.  Please excuse me,” she said, turning to the assembled girls.  She was making a desperate effort to be polite when she preferred to be rude.

“Mabel Ashe, you’re the dearest girl,” Grace burst forth as the little crowd dissolved and strolled off in different directions.  “You have been lovely to Elfreda, and instead of her evening being spoiled, you know what I mean, she has actually made a sensation.”

“I am not the only one who has been looking out for J. Elfreda’s interests,” reminded Mabel.  “I am glad that she has this talent.  It will help her to make friends with the girls, and if nothing more is said about the registrar affair she will soon have a following of her own.”