"Now I know why the name, Oakdale, seemed so familiar!" exclaimed Mabel
Ashe. "I have heard Constance mention it. She is one of my best
friends. Does she know that you are to be here?"

"No," replied Grace. "We haven't seen her this summer. We were away from
Oakdale." Grace did not wish to mention their trip to Europe, fearing
their companion might think her unduly anxious to boast. One of the
things against which Julia Crosby, her old time Oakdale friend, and a
senior in Smith College, had cautioned her, was boasting. "Avoid all
appearance of being your own press agent," Julia had humorously advised.
"If you don't you'll be a marked girl for the whole four years of your
college career. The meek and modest violet is a glowing example for
erring freshmen."

"I'll remember, Julia," Grace had promised, and she now resolved that
she would think twice before speaking once, whatever the occasion might
be.

"Constance has not arrived yet," said Mabel. "I heard her roommate say
this morning that she expected her to-morrow. She rooms at Holland
House, too. I shall tell her about you the moment I see her. This is the
Tourraine," she announced, pausing before a handsome sandstone building
and leading the way up the steps that led to the broad veranda, gay with
porch boxes of flowers and shaded by awnings.

"Won't you come up to our rooms?" asked Miriam.

"Not to-night, thank you," replied Mabel. "Frances and I will be over
bright and early to-morrow morning to pilot you to the college. Then you