“That’s your train, girls,” said Mr. Harlowe, who with Mrs. Harlowe, Mrs. Nesbit and Mary Pierson had drawn a little to one side while their dear ones said their last farewells to their four boy friends.  The circle about the three girls closed in.  The air resounded with good-byes.  The last kisses and handshakes were exchanged.  Reckless promises to send letters and postcards were made.  Then, still surrounded, Grace, Miriam and Anne made their way to the car steps and into the train.  Grace clung first to her mother then to her father.  “How can I do without you?” she said over and over again.  Tears stood in her gray eyes.  She winked them back bravely.  “I’m going to show both of you just how much I appreciate going to college by doing my very best,” she whispered.  Her father patted her reassuringly on the shoulder while her mother gave her a last loving kiss.

“I know you will, dear child,” she said affectionately.  “Remember, Grace,” added her father, a suspicious mist in his own eyes, “you are not to rush headlong into things.  You are to do a great deal of looking before you even make up your mind to leap.”

“I’ll remember, Father.  Truly I will,” responded Grace, her face sobering.

“All aboard!  All aboard!” shouted the conductor.  Those who had entered the train to say farewell left it hurriedly.

“Good-bye!  Good-bye!” cried Grace, leaning out the car window.

From the platform as the train moved off, clear on the air, rose the Oakdale High School yell.

“It’s in honor of us,” said Grace softly.  “Dear old Oakdale.  I wonder if we can ever like college as well as we have high school.”

CHAPTER II

J. Elfreda introduces herself.

For the first half hour the three girls were silent.  Each sat wrapped in her own thoughts, and those thoughts centered upon the dear ones left behind.  Anne, whose venture into the theatrical world had necessitated her frequent absence from home, felt the wrench less than did Grace or Miriam.  Aside from their summer vacations they had never been away from their mothers for any length of time.  To Grace, as she watched the landscape flit by, the thought of the ever widening distance between her and her mother was intolerable.  She experienced a strong desire to bury her face in her hands and sob disconsolately, but bravely conquering the sense of loneliness that swept over her, she threw back her shoulders and sitting very straight in her seat glanced almost defiantly about her.

“Well, Grace, have you made up your mind to be resigned?” asked Miriam Nesbit.  “That sudden world-defying glance that you just favored us with looks as though the victory was won.”

“Miriam, you are almost a mind reader,” laughed Grace.  “I’ve been on the verge of a breakdown ever since we left Oakdale, and in this very instant I made up my mind to be brave and not cry a single tear.  Look at Anne.  She is as calm and unemotional as a statue.”