Wayne Hall was a substantial four-story brick house, just a block from the campus.  It was looked upon as a strictly freshman house, but occasionally sophomores lived there, as the rooms were well-furnished and the matron, Mrs. Elwood, had a reputation for looking out for the welfare of her girls.

To their delight Grace and Anne had been allowed to room together, while Miriam had by lucky chance secured a room to herself across the hall.

“If that poor little yellow-haired freshman hadn’t failed in all her examinations I shouldn’t be rooming alone,” said Miriam rather soberly as she dived into the depths of the now almost emptied trunk.

“Did you meet her?” asked Grace, who, seated on the bed beside Anne, watched Miriam’s unpacking with interested eyes.

“No,” replied Miriam.  “One of the freshmen at the table told me about her.  She said that the poor girl cried all day yesterday and last night.  She didn’t dare write her father, who, it seems, is very severe, that she had failed.  He won’t know she’s coming until she reaches home.”

“What a pity,” said Anne sympathetically.  “It must be dreadful to fail and know that one must face not only the humility of the failure, but the displeasure of one’s family too.”

“If I had failed in my examinations neither Father nor Mother would have said one reproachful word,” said Grace.

“Of course I’m sorry for her,” said Miriam, “but considering the fact that I am now going to room alone, I shall write to Mother and ask her to send me the money to furnish this room as I please.  I’d like to have a davenport bed, and I want a chiffonier and a dressing table to match.  There’s room here for a piano, too.  I’ll have it over in this corner and then I’ll——­”

Rap, rap, rap! sounded on the door.

“Come in,” called Miriam frowning at the interruption.

The door opened to admit Mrs. Elwood, and following in her wake, laden with a bag and two suit cases, her hat pushed over her eyes, a half-suspicious, half-belligerent expression on her face, was J. Elfreda Briggs.

“Well I never!” she gasped in astonishment, dropping her belongings in a heap on the floor and making a dive for the nearest chair.  “You’re the last people I ever expected to see.  Where have you been, anyway?  I supposed you’d all flunked in your exams, given up the job, and gone back to Glendale, Hilldale—­what’s the name of that dale you hail from?”

“Oakdale,” supplemented Anne slyly.

“Yes, that’s it.  Oakdale.  Foolish name for a town, isn’t it?”

During this outburst Mrs. Elwood had stood silent, looking at J. Elfreda with doubtful eyes.  Now she said apologetically, “I’m very sorry, Miss Nesbit, but could you—­that is—­would you mind having a roommate after all?  My sister, Mrs. Arnold, who manages Ralston House just down the street from here, took Miss Briggs because she thought one of her girls wasn’t coming back.  Now