The class play in which Eleanor plotted to oust Anne Pierson, the star, from the production and obtain the leading part for herself, the discovery of the plot at the eleventh hour by Grace, enabling her to balk Eleanor’s scheme, were among the incidents that aroused anew the admiration of the reader for capable, wide-awake Grace Harlowe.

The seven young people on the platform looked unusually solemn, and a brief silence followed Grace’s wistful question.  Saying good-bye threatened to be a harder task than any of them had imagined it to be.  Even Hippy, usually ready of speech, wore a look of concern decidedly out of place on his fat, good-humored face.

“Do say something funny, Hippy!” exclaimed Nora in desperation.  “This silence is awful.  In another minute we’ll all be weeping.  Can’t you offer something cheerful?”

Hippy fixed a reflective eye upon Nora for an instant, then recited in a husky voice: 

    “Remember well, and bear in mind,
    That fat young men are hard to find.”

There was a shout of laughter went up at this and things began to take a brighter turn.

“Now will you be good, Nora?” teased David.

“Humph!” sniffed Nora.  “I knew his sadness was only skin deep.”

“After all,” said Anne Pierson, “why should we look at the gloomy side.  You are all coming home for Thanksgiving and the time will slip by before we realize it.  It’s our duty to send you boys away in good spirits, instead of making you feel blue and melancholy.”

“Anne always thinks about her duty,” laughed Jessica, “but she’s right, nevertheless.  Let’s all be as cheerful as possible.”

“I hear the train coming,” cried Grace, always on the alert.  “Do write to us, won’t you, boys!  Please don’t forget to send us some pictures of the college.”

“Yes, don’t let that new Eastman of yours go to waste, Reddy,” said Nora.

“I will make Hippy pose the minute we strike the college campus,” laughed Reddy, “and you shall have the first results, providing they are not too terrifying.”

“I want pictures of the college, not the inmates,” retorted Nora.

“Inmates!” cried Hippy.  “One would think she was speaking of a lunatic asylum or a jail.  I forgive you, Nora, but it was a cruel thrust.  Here comes the train.  Get busy, you fellows, and make your fond farewells to your families, who will no doubt be tickled pink to get rid of you for a while.”

With that he made a rush to where his father and brother stood.  David turned to his mother and sister Miriam, kissing them affectionately, while Reddy grasped his father’s hand with silent affection in his eyes.

The last good-byes were reserved for the four chums, who felt lumps rise in their throats in spite of their recently avowed declaration to be cheerful.

Nora shoved a white box tied up with blue ribbon into Hippy’s hand just as he was about to board the train.