until the latter subject had been worn out. "I'll tell you what we ought
to have."

"Ith it thomething nithe?" questioned Grace.

"It is a yell, Tommy."

"A yell? I can yell."

"I don't mean it in that way. Something like a high school or a college
yell. We are the Meadow-Brook Girls, you know. We have a name, now we must
have a yell."

"Oh, Mith Elting, give uth a yell, a loud one," urged Tommy, her eyes
sparkling.

Miss Elting smiled tolerantly.

"You had better arrange one to suit yourselves," she answered. "Harriet,
you will have to provide the yell now that you have suggested it."

Harriet already had a pencil in her hand. She sat holding the pencil
poised above the fly leaf of a book that she had brought along to read,
but had not up to this moment, so much as opened. Her brow was wrinkled in
thought. Tommy was regarding her keenly.

"Well, aren't you going to yell!"

All at once Harriet's face relaxed. She began to write. Margery craned her
neck to see what was being written, but Harriet held the cover of the book