“If I only knew,” pursued Judith, refusing to be serious.  “How I’d love two hundred!”

“Well, we have got to find out where it comes from,” fired back Jane, flushing with determination.  “I am not going to be fooled by a change in manner and an improvement in style.  If beauty shop money is beginning to flow in here it must be stopped.”

“Bravo!  We haven’t had a real lively little scrap since the ghost fell, and I’d love it.”

“You may joke, Judith, but——­”

“Calling me by my baptismal name settles it,” said Judith, with assumed finality.  “I’ll apologize, Jane Allen.  What do you propose to do, and when are you going to do it?  May I act as your honorable secretary?”

“Yes, come with me tonight and pay a visit at Lenox.  I want to talk Sally into going to the dance.  The girls are so fond of her and she happens to be one of our pets.  I really don’t know how it happens but it has, and it would look shabby if we were to leave her out.  So she must come.”

“Got to,” agreed Judith.  “She’s so smart, every freshman is envious.  Did you hear Miss Roberts, the real Noah Webster of Wellington, rave about her thesis?”

“Clever girls are so apt to cut dances,” said Jane.  “We must assume the missionary spirit—–­” her voice trailed solemnly.

This was too much for the turbulent Judith, as Jane intended it should be.

“I’ll go, I’ll go!” she cried out in protest.  “Although I hate to think of Teddy having to choose between me and daffodilly Sally; still I’ll go, Jane, to save you another spasm like that.  Where’s the Logic?  Do you suppose Ethics will be easier?  Or perhaps worse—­ likely worse,” she was slamming book pages violently.  “Now don’t speak to me for one half hour.  Then do your worst.”

But while Judith was studying Jane slipped out of the room ostensibly for a breath of fresh air.  All her chum’s hilarity was appreciated, but just now things were assuming a serious turn and Jane felt some responsibility for the swing of the turntable.

“Judy’s a dear, but she hasn’t a daddy’s scholarship to fight for,” Jane told herself.  “And the marked change in my rebellious Shirley may only be a preliminary to another outbreak.  I’ve just got to see the girls before the lecture,” and she flew from the inopportune mirth of Judith Stearns.

Shirley and Sarah were together in Shirley’s room—­not at the foot of the attic stairs now, but a tiny “nest” under the artistic eaves, chosen for effect on the purse, as well as on the eye.

“I can’t do it,” Shirley was arguing, as Jane came to the door.  “I simply am through at mid-year.”

Surprised at this statement, Jane knocked quickly to forestall further disclosure.  Both girls answered, and Jane found them glad—­ even anxious to see her.

“You are both surely coming to the dance,” she began, falling into Sally’s prettiest cushions.  “I came over just to make sure.”  “Oh, Miss Allen,” wavered Sally.  “I can’t go——­”