“I don’t quite get your flow of words, Kitten, but I do agree with their meaning.  Yes, small towns can turn out gigantic specimens of conceited ego.  And that conceit is like a paraffine coating; air tight against personal progress, absorbent for the poisons of jealousy and envy.  There, that sounds as if I have learned a little English, doesn’t it?  But it isn’t enough to face Miss Robert’s exams.”

“It’s after eight.  There are the girls slamming doors in the first jazz number,” said Sally.  “Come along, Bobbie, and smile your warmest.  Then we shall defy fate for a few more happy hours at least.”

Swallowed up immediately in the swirl of young students heading for the dance “Kitten and Bobbie” were presently on the high road to defying fate as per schedule.  The music from the dance room was just feeling its way out of brilliantly lighted windows, and the grand old campus seemed very proud of itself indeed, as it stretched out and made a background for the entire picture.

Flocks of automobiles were nestling along the drives, and many a Wellington heart skipped its regular beat at the preliminary thought: 

“I wonder if he came yet?”

From companion colleges the boys were making their way into old Wellington, and the students of Yorktown were apt to be especially plentiful.  It was from this big college that Ted Barrett—­alias Ted--somebody’s brother, was expected.

In contrast to the usual line for receiving, such as so often makes a farce of the formal social event, the seniors and juniors had formed themselves into a ring that surrounded the entrance, and through this ring each guest was forced to pass in at one end and out at the other in initiation to Wellington.  Jane was chosen to form one “clasp” of the circlet, with two tall seniors at her side.  She gave the welcoming pass-word for the juniors, and in her hand clasp delivered the secret sign.

As the girls from Lenox entered, the eyes of our two special friends immediately sought out Jane.  Not even the possible presence of Teddy offered a distraction, for it seemed now as if their fate rested more fully than ever in the hands of the girl whose father had given them the much abused scholarship.

“How sweet!” breathed Sally.  “Like a pansy.”

“Exactly,” answered Shirley.  “Did you ever see anything prettier?”

Jane’s appearance supported this flattery in every detail.  She wore a flowered frock, georgette with pansies sprinkled over it, and in her coppery hair a small bunch of the same velvet flowers was clustered.  Among all the others this flowered gown seemed distinctive, although Dozia in her ruffles (to cut her height), and Judith in her sea foam green (to give her color), were indeed highly attractive.

The indescribable jazz music was see-sawing in and out of harmony, and if there were anything actually shy on the score it was more than plentifully supplied by the “ukes,” mandolins and banjos of the visiting college boys.