“Shall I read it aloud?” asked Grace.

“By all means,” said Miriam with emphasis.

Grace began to read.  Anne, who sat beside her, looked over her shoulder, while Miriam, who sat opposite Grace, leaned forward in order to catch every word.  They were so completely occupied with their own affairs, none of them noticed that the train had stopped.  Suddenly a voice shrilled out impatiently, “Is this seat engaged?” With one accord the three girls glanced up.  Before them stood a tall, rather stout young woman with a full, red face, whose frowning expression was anything but reassuring.

“Yes—­no, I mean,” replied Grace hastily.

“I thought not,” remarked the stranger complacently as she stolidly seated herself beside Miriam and deposited a traveling bag partly on the floor and partly on Grace’s feet.

“These seats are ridiculously small,” grumbled the stranger, bending over to jam her traveling bag more firmly into the space from which Grace had hastily withdrawn her feet.  Then straightening up suddenly, her heavily plumed hat collided with the hand in which Grace held Eleanor’s letter, scattering the sheets in every direction.  With a little cry of concern Grace sprang to her feet and, stepping out in the aisle, began to pick them up.  Having recovered the last one she turned to her seat only to find it occupied by their unwelcome fellow traveler.

“I changed seats,” commented the stout girl stolidly.  “I never could stand it to ride backwards.”

Grace looked first at the stranger then from Miriam to Anne.  Miriam looked ready for battle, while even mild little Anne glared resentfully at the rude newcomer.  Grace hesitated, opened her mouth as though about to speak, then without saying a word sat down in the vacant place and began to rearrange the sheets of her letter.

“I’ll finish this some other time, girls,” she said briefly.

“Oh, you needn’t mind me,” calmly remarked the stranger.  “I don’t mind listening to letters.  That is if they’ve got anything in them besides ’I write these few lines to tell you that I am well and hope you are the same.’  That sort of stuff makes me sick.  Goodness knows, I suppose that’s the kind I’ll have handed to me all year.  Neither Ma nor Pa can write a letter that sounds like anything.”

By this time Miriam’s frown had begun to disappear, while Anne’s eyes were dancing.

Grace looked at the stout girl rather curiously, an expression of new interest dawning in her eyes.  “Are you going to college?” she asked.

“Well, I rather guess I am,” was the quick reply.  “I’ll bet you girls are in the same boat with me, too.  What college do you get off at?”

“Overton,” answered Grace.

“Then you haven’t seen the last of me,” assured the stranger, “for I’m going there myself and I’d just about as soon go to darkest Africa or any other heathen place.”

“Why don’t you wish to go to Overton?” asked Anne.