Grace Harlowes First Year at Overton College | Page 5

that
I haven't opened. It came this morning just before I left the house."
Fumbling in her bag, Grace drew forth a bulky looking letter, bearing a
foreign postmark, and tearing open the end, drew out several closely
folded sheets of thin paper covered with Eleanor's characteristic
handwriting.
"Shall I read it aloud?" asked Grace.
"By all means," said Miriam with emphasis.
Grace began to read. Anne, who sat beside her, looked over her
shoulder, while Miriam, who sat opposite Grace, leaned forward in
order to catch every word. They were so completely occupied with
their own affairs, none of them noticed that the train had stopped.

Suddenly a voice shrilled out impatiently, "Is this seat engaged?" With
one accord the three girls glanced up. Before them stood a tall, rather
stout young woman with a full, red face, whose frowning expression
was anything but reassuring.
"Yes--no, I mean," replied Grace hastily.
"I thought not," remarked the stranger complacently as she stolidly
seated herself beside Miriam and deposited a traveling bag partly on the
floor and partly on Grace's feet.
"These seats are ridiculously small," grumbled the stranger, bending
over to jam her traveling bag more firmly into the space from which
Grace had hastily withdrawn her feet. Then straightening up suddenly,
her heavily plumed hat collided with the hand in which Grace held
Eleanor's letter, scattering the sheets in every direction. With a little cry
of concern Grace sprang to her feet and, stepping out in the aisle, began
to pick them up. Having recovered the last one she turned to her seat
only to find it occupied by their unwelcome fellow traveler.
"I changed seats," commented the stout girl stolidly. "I never could
stand it to ride backwards."
Grace looked first at the stranger then from Miriam to Anne. Miriam
looked ready for battle, while even mild little Anne glared resentfully at
the rude newcomer. Grace hesitated, opened her mouth as though about
to speak, then without saying a word sat down in the vacant place and
began to rearrange the sheets of her letter.
"I'll finish this some other time, girls," she said briefly.
"Oh, you needn't mind me," calmly remarked the stranger. "I don't
mind listening to letters. That is if they've got anything in them besides
'I write these few lines to tell you that I am well and hope you are the
same.' That sort of stuff makes me sick. Goodness knows, I suppose
that's the kind I'll have handed to me all year. Neither Ma nor Pa can
write a letter that sounds like anything."

By this time Miriam's frown had begun to disappear, while Anne's eyes
were dancing.
Grace looked at the stout girl rather curiously, an expression of new
interest dawning in her eyes. "Are you going to college?" she asked.
"Well, I rather guess I am," was the quick reply. "I'll bet you girls are in
the same boat with me, too. What college do you get off at?"
"Overton," answered Grace.
"Then you haven't seen the last of me," assured the stranger, "for I'm
going there myself and I'd just about as soon go to darkest Africa or
any other heathen place."
"Why don't you wish to go to Overton?" asked Anne.
"Because I don't want to go to college at all," was the blunt answer. "I
want to go to Europe with Ma and Pa and have a good time. We have
loads of money, but what good does that do me if I can't get a chance to
spend it? I'd fail in all my exams if I dared, but Pa knows I'm not a
wooden head, and I'd just have to try it again somewhere else. So I'll
have to let well enough alone or get in deeper than I am now."
The stout girl leaned back in her seat and surveyed the trio of girls
through half-closed eyes. "Where did you girls come from and what are
your names?" she asked abruptly. "Partners in misery might as well get
acquainted, you know."
Grace introduced her friends in turn, then said: "My name is Grace
Harlowe, and we three girls live in the city of Oakdale."
"Never heard of it," yawned the girl. "It must be like Fairview, our
town, not down on the map. We live there, because Ma was born there
and thinks it the only place on earth, but we manage to go to New York
occasionally, thank goodness. Ever been there?" she queried.
"Once or twice," smiled Miriam Nesbit.

"Great old town, isn't it?" remarked their new acquaintance. "My name
is J. Elfreda Briggs. The J. stands for Josephine, but I hate it. Ma and
Pa call me Fred, and that sounds pretty good to me. Say, aren't you girls
about starved? I'm going to