A group of girls in a bay-window over-looking the campus were discussing the coming commencement.  From various rooms came the steady, patient sound of pianos played for practice.  On the green lawn in front of the president’s cottage two or three intellectual looking professors and tutors walked up and down, evidently discussing an affair that interested them.

The postman strolled over the campus wearily, as who should say, “This is my last round, and the bag is abominably heavy.”

He disappeared within a side door, and presently there was a hurrying and scurrying of fresh-faced young women, bright-eyed and blooming under the mortar-caps, jauntily perched over their braids and ringlets, rushing toward that objective point, the college post-office.  One would have fancied that letters came very seldom, to see their excitement.

Margaret Lee received two letters.  She did not open either in the presence of her friends, but went with a swift step and a heightened color to her own suite of rooms.  Two small alcoves, curtained off from a pleasant little central sitting-room, composed the apartment Margaret shared with her four years’ chum Alice Raynor.  Alice was not there, yet Margaret did not seat herself in the room common to both, but entered her own alcove, drew the portiere, and sat down on the edge of the iron bed, not larger than a soldier’s camp cot.  It was an austere little cell, simple as a nun’s, with the light falling from one narrow window on the pale face and brown hair of the young girl, to whom the unopened letters in her hand signified so much.

Which should she read first?  One, in a large square envelope, addressed in a bold, business-like hand, bore a Western postmark, and had the printed order to return, if not delivered in ten days, to Hilox University, Colorado.  The other, in a cramped, old-fashioned hand, bore the postmark of a hamlet in West Virginia.  It was a thin letter, evidently belonging to the genus domestic correspondence, a letter from Margaret’s home.

Which should she open first?  There was an evident struggle, and a perceptible hesitation.  Then she laid the home letter resolutely down on the pillow of her bed, and, with a hair-pin, that woman’s tool which suits so many uses, delicately and dexterously cut the envelope of the letter from Hilox.  It began formally, and was very brief: 

“MY DEAR MISS LEE:—­The trustees and faculty of Hilox University have been looking for a woman, a recent graduate of distinction from some well-established Eastern college, to take the chair of Greek in our new institution.  You have been recommended as thoroughly qualified for the position.  The salary is not at present large, but our university is growing, and we offer a tempting field to an energetic and ambitious woman.  May we write you more fully on the subject, if you are inclined to take our vacancy into your favorable consideration?

“Very respectfully yours.”