“Miss Briggs showed the letter to Miss Nesbit, her roommate, and to Miss Harlowe,” Anne continued composedly.  “She was heartbroken over it and would have left Overton if Miss Harlowe had not persuaded her to stay.  Miss Harlowe did a little investigating on her own account.  She suspected two sophomores of being responsible for the letter, believing the rest of the class knew nothing about it.  She called on the two young women and forced them to admit their knowledge of the note.  Both denied writing it.  It is evident that they have misrepresented matters among their friends.  As far as Grace Harlowe is concerned she is utterly incapable of doing a mean or dishonorable act.  We were classmates in high school and she was beloved by all who knew her.”

Anne paused and glanced almost appealingly around the circle of tense faces.  Then Elizabeth Wade, the other hostile freshman, said slowly:  “Girls, I am inclined to think we have been imposed upon.  Miss Pierson, I will be perfectly frank with you.  We knew nothing about the note.  Personally, I consider it an outrageous thing to do, and in direct violation of what we are taught regarding college spirit.  Briefly, what we did hear was that Miss Briggs had reported two sophomores for playing an innocent trick on her, and that Miss Harlowe had urged her to do so.  Also that Miss Harlowe had visited the two upper classmen and, after rating them in a very ill-bred manner, had ordered them to apologize to Miss Briggs.”

Anne smiled.  “I can’t help smiling,” she apologized.  “If you knew Grace as I know her, you’d smile, too.”

Marian Cummings’s face softened.  “I do wish to know her, now,” she smiled.  “After what you’ve told us I think the rest of us feel the same.  I’m glad you made us listen to you, Miss Pierson.”

“So am I,” “and I,” agreed the other girls.

Anne’s face flushed with joy at her victory.  “I hope 19——­ will be the best class Overton has ever turned out,” she said simply, “and I hope that any misunderstandings that may arise will be cleared away as easily as this one has been.”

“Suppose we go over and congratulate Miss Harlowe on her playing this afternoon,” proposed a tall freshman, “and we might incidentally pay our respects to Miss Briggs.  We must help her to live up to her good resolutions, you know,” she added slyly.

Anne was in a maze of delight at her success.  The other guests had been so busily engaged with their own little groups, no one of them had overheard Anne’s defense of her friend.  Grace, who was giving an eager account of the famous game that won her team the championship during her sophomore year at high school, looked up in surprise at the crowd of merry girls which suddenly surrounded her.  For an instant she looked amazed, then smiled at them in the frank, straightforward fashion that always made friends for her.

Gertrude Wells, who, with three other freshmen, had been in the kitchen preparing the refreshments, appeared in the door just in time to see the girls surround Grace.  She smiled contentedly, and nodding to the fluffy-haired little girl standing beside her said gleefully:  “What did I tell you?  Look in there.”