“In the sophomore year the hardest task is keeping the weeds out, and during the junior and senior years the difficulty will be to keep the ground in the highest state of cultivation.  It will be easier to neglect one’s garden, then, because one will have grown so used to the things one has planted that one will forget to tend them and put off stirring up the soil around them and watering them.  I’m going to think a little each day while I’m home this summer about my garden and keep it fresh and green.”

Grace laid the gown she had been folding in the trunk and looked earnestly at Anne as she finished her long speech.

“What a nice idea!” exclaimed Anne warmly.  “I think I shall have to begin gardening, too.”

“Your garden has always been in a flourishing condition from the first,” laughed Grace.  “The chief trouble with mine seems to be the number of strange weeds that spring up—­nettles that I never planted, but that sting just as sharply, nevertheless.  It hurts me to go home with the knowledge that there are two girls here who don’t like me.  I know I ought not to care, for I have nothing to regret as far as my own conduct is concerned, but still I’d like to leave Overton for the summer without one shadow in my path.”

“Perhaps, when certain girls come back in the fall they will be on their good behavior.”

“Perhaps,” repeated Grace sceptically.

The entrance into the room of Elfreda and Miriam, who had been out shopping, brought the little heart talk to an abrupt close.

“We’ve a new kind of cakes,” exulted Miriam.  “They are three stories high and each story is a different color.  They have icing half an inch thick and an English walnut on top.  All for the small sum of five cents, too.”

“We bought a dozen,” declared Elfreda, “and now I’m going out to buy ice cream.  This packing business calls for plenty of refreshment to keep one’s energy up to the mark.  I’ve thought of a lovely plan to lighten my labors.”

“What is it?” asked Grace.  “Your plans are always startlingly original if not very practical.”

“This is practical,” announced the stout girl.  “I’m going to give away my clothes; that is, the most of them.  I found a poor woman the other day who does scrubbing for the college who needs them.  I found out where she lives and I’m going to bundle them all together and send them to her.  I don’t wish her to know where they came from.  I’ll just write a card, and—­”

The three broadly smiling faces of her friends caused her to stop short and regard them suspiciously.  “What’s the matter?” she said in an offended tone.

Grace ran over and slipped her arm about the stout girl’s shoulders.  “You are the one who sent Ruth her lovely clothes last Christmas.  Don’t try to deny it.  I was sure of it then.”

“Oh, see here,” expostulated Elfreda, jerking herself away, her face crimson.  “I—­you—­”