Grace Harlowes Return to Overton Campus | Page 3

Grace nodded. She could not trust her voice to answer. A sudden mist
filled her eyes, a silent tribute to those whose feet had once kept pace
with hers through these beloved ways. Commencement had scattered
them broadcast. She, alone, was coming back again to take up life at

the college. How she would miss them all. The dry irresistible humor of
Emma Dean, the sturdy independence of J. Elfreda Briggs, the
daintiness of Arline Thayer and the steadfast loyalty of Ruth Denton.
Last of all there were Anne and Miriam. Anne, her devoted little
comrade of years, and Miriam, whose faith and good fellowship had
never failed her.
A sob rose in Grace's throat, but she quickly stifled it. After all she was
about to begin the work she herself had chosen. She had known when
she announced her determination to take charge of Harlowe House that
things could never be quite the same. It would be selfish, indeed, in her
to break down and cry when Mrs. Gray had come to Overton solely to
help her select the furniture and plan for the opening of Harlowe House
in September.
Grace pulled herself together and, resolutely putting her own sense of
loss behind her, said steadily: "I couldn't help thinking of the girls for a
minute. It made me want to cry, but I've set my face to the future now,
and I'm sure that my new work is going to bring me as much happiness
here as I had during the other dear four years. When I think of how
splendid it was in you to give Harlowe House to Overton, I feel as
though there isn't any sacrifice too great for me to make to insure its
success, and I hope that my coming back to Overton Campus to do my
work is going to mean a thousand times more to me next June than it
does now."
CHAPTER II
A WELCOME GUEST
The summer sun, streaming intimately in at the window of her room,
and touching her hair with warm, awakening fingers, caused Grace to
open her eyes before six o'clock the next morning. She lay looking
about her, unable for the moment to remember where she was. Then
she laughed and reaching for her kimono, which hung folded across the
footboard of the bed, slipped it on, and, thrusting her feet into her
bedroom slippers, went to the window.

"Dear old Overton Hall," she murmured, her eyes fixed lovingly on the
stately gray tower of the building that she had come to regard as a close
friend. Again she found herself overwhelmed by a tide of
reminiscences. How many times she and Anne had stood at the
self-same window, arm in arm, gazing out at the self-same sights. She
could see the very seat at the foot of the big tree where she had sat the
day Emma Dean had poked her head about the big syringa bush and
mournfully handed her the letter from Ruth Denton's father which had
been buried in the pocket of Emma's coat for so many weeks. She
smiled as she recalled the ludicrously penitent expression with which
Emma had delivered the letter. There were the library steps on which
Arline Thayer had sat and cried so disconsolately because she could not
go home for Christmas. Once more she saw a strange procession
winding its way across the campus headed by a walking, chattering
scarecrow, Emma Dean again in her famous representation of "Never
Too Late to Mend," which had been one of the great features of the
Famous Fiction dance.
Then she saw four girls, with their shining heads bared to the sun,
strolling across the campus, talking earnestly of what the future held for
them. And still again she saw them in caps and gowns marching toward
the Gate of Commencement. It was only a little time since they had
passed through that gateway, yet how long it seemed.
Suddenly her look of abstraction changed to one of startled interest.
Running to the door she threw it open and listened intently. She heard
Mrs. Elwood's voice raised in pleased surprise, then, could she believe
her ears? she heard another never-to-be-forgotten voice say, "I could
see that there was some one awake and stirring."
With a joyous cry of "J. Elfreda, where, oh, where did you come
from?" a lithe, blue-robed figure raced down the stairs and wrapped
both arms tightly about a plump young woman, in a tailored coat suit,
who returned the warm embrace with interest.
"Oh, Grace, I can't tell you how glad I am to see you again!" exclaimed
J. Elfreda Briggs fervently. "I never was so glad in all my life as when I
found out you were here. The letter was forwarded to me at