“I left Jane heading for the office and her head was down,” announced Inez Wilson finally.  “She didn’t see me and her head being down, of course meant——­”

“Trouble,” finished Katherine Winters.  “When Jane Allen goes forward with her red head in advance there is sure to be a collision.  What’s up?  Who knows?”

“Come along and find out,” promptly suggested Winifred Ayres.  “Can’t tell what we’re missing.  Jane may have lifted the roof when she raised her head.”

“Poor old roof,” commented Ted Guthrie, dragging Janet Clarke down to earth again in her own attempt at rising.  “I suppose we may as well fall in line,” she continued good-naturedly.  “Janie is still the idol of the mob; anyone can see that, even at this early date,” and with a girl tugging on either side the stout one finally heaved ahoy!

“’Tain’t that,” corrected Inez recklessly, “it’s just because we are all too lazy to do the things we know Jane will do.  I have been reading up on psychology, and you may now expect me to spoil every dream of childhood with a reason why,” and Inez threw her head up prophetically.

“Alluring prospects this year,” groaned Velma Sigsbee.  “What with Maud gone scientific, and Inez turned psychologist and Jane Allen traveling with her head down—­well, all I can say is I still take two lumps of sugar in my tea.”  Velma was just that way, a pretty girl who loved sugar in spite of restrictions, high prices and the written word.

A solitary figure was now outlined against the low cedars curled around Linger Lane.  It was Jane at last.

“Here she comes!  Here she comes!” announced Nettie Brocton.  “And look, girls! she isn’t even whistling.  Something is wrong with our sunny Jane.”

There was no mistake about it, something was wrong, for Jane Allen swung along the path, calling greetings to friends grouped in knots and colonies with an evident half heartedness foreign to her usual buoyant, cheerful personality.

Espying her own contingent on the poplar slope she threw her arms out in a reckless, boyish sort of gesture to give force to the “Hello girls!” she called, but even that was much too mild for Jane.

“We were in despair,” began Judith, Jane’s particular friend and school-long companion.  “Janie dear, why the clouds?  What’s up?  Let us know the worst, do.  We are fortified now, whereas in an hour hence we may be weak from interviews with the new proctor.  Sit down Jane.  We just rose to go in search of you, and by my new watch I see there is still time before the hour to report.  There,” and the little spot cleared for Jane in the semi-circle was now covered with a pretty plaid skirt, “do tell us.  You really look worried,”