Grace Harlowes First Year at Overton College | Page 3

Harlowe,
Mrs. Nesbit and Mary Pierson had drawn a little to one side while their

dear ones said their last farewells to their four boy friends. The circle
about the three girls closed in. The air resounded with good-byes. The
last kisses and handshakes were exchanged. Reckless promises to send
letters and postcards were made. Then, still surrounded, Grace, Miriam
and Anne made their way to the car steps and into the train. Grace
clung first to her mother then to her father. "How can I do without
you?" she said over and over again. Tears stood in her gray eyes. She
winked them back bravely. "I'm going to show both of you just how
much I appreciate going to college by doing my very best," she
whispered. Her father patted her reassuringly on the shoulder while her
mother gave her a last loving kiss.
"I know you will, dear child," she said affectionately. "Remember,
Grace," added her father, a suspicious mist in his own eyes, "you are
not to rush headlong into things. You are to do a great deal of looking
before you even make up your mind to leap."
"I'll remember, Father. Truly I will," responded Grace, her face
sobering.
"All aboard! All aboard!" shouted the conductor. Those who had
entered the train to say farewell left it hurriedly.
"Good-bye! Good-bye!" cried Grace, leaning out the car window.
From the platform as the train moved off, clear on the air, rose the
Oakdale High School yell.
"It's in honor of us," said Grace softly. "Dear old Oakdale. I wonder if
we can ever like college as well as we have high school."

CHAPTER II
J. ELFREDA INTRODUCES HERSELF.
For the first half hour the three girls were silent. Each sat wrapped in

her own thoughts, and those thoughts centered upon the dear ones left
behind. Anne, whose venture into the theatrical world had necessitated
her frequent absence from home, felt the wrench less than did Grace or
Miriam. Aside from their summer vacations they had never been away
from their mothers for any length of time. To Grace, as she watched the
landscape flit by, the thought of the ever widening distance between her
and her mother was intolerable. She experienced a strong desire to bury
her face in her hands and sob disconsolately, but bravely conquering
the sense of loneliness that swept over her, she threw back her
shoulders and sitting very straight in her seat glanced almost defiantly
about her.
"Well, Grace, have you made up your mind to be resigned?" asked
Miriam Nesbit. "That sudden world-defying glance that you just
favored us with looks as though the victory was won."
"Miriam, you are almost a mind reader," laughed Grace. "I've been on
the verge of a breakdown ever since we left Oakdale, and in this very
instant I made up my mind to be brave and not cry a single tear. Look
at Anne. She is as calm and unemotional as a statue."
"That's because I'm more used to being away from home," replied Anne.
"Troupers are not supposed to have feelings. With them, it is here
to-day and gone to-morrow."
"Yes, but you were transplanted to Oakdale soil for four years,"
reminded Grace.
"I know it," returned Anne reflectively. "I do feel dreadfully sad at
leaving my mother and sister, too. Still, when I think that I'm actually
on the way to college at last, I can't help feeling happy, too."
"Dear little Anne," smiled Grace. "College means everything to you,
doesn't it? That's because you've earned every cent of your college
money."
"And I'll have to earn a great deal more to see me through to
graduation," added Anne soberly. "My vacations hereafter must be

spent in work instead of play."
"What are you going to do to earn money during vacations, Anne?"
asked Miriam rather curiously.
"I might as well confess to you girls that I'm going to do the work I can
do most successfully," said Anne in a low voice. "I'm going to try to get
an engagement in a stock theatrical company every summer until I
graduate. I can earn far more money at that than doing clerical work. I
received a long letter from Mr. Southard last week and also one from
his sister. They wish me to come to New York as soon as my freshman
year at college is over. Mr. Southard writes that he can get an
engagement for me in a stock company. I'll have to work frightfully
hard, for there will be a matinee every day as well as a regular
performance every night, and I'll have a new part to study each week.
But the salary will more than compensate me for my work. You know
that Mary did dress-making and worked night