rested that way, defying every known law for relaxation. Jane, au
contraire, was curled up like a kitten, with one red sweater balled
under her ruffled head and the other blue one tangled about her slim
ankles. Both girls were tired--justly so, for the opening day at
Wellington was ever a time of joyous activity, and the day just
closed had roared and yelled itself into an evening still vibrant
with bristling energy, tack hammers and movie pictures smashing
rules and regulations, until the night gong sounded its irrevocable
warning. Then roommates paired off even as did Jane and Judith.

"Has anything happened to your baggage?" prompted Judith, as her
companion failed to confide.

Jane teased one small worsted tassel of Judith's blue sweater free
from its tangle with her shoe lace, then she poked her dimpled chin
forward saucily.

"Can't ever have a secret, I suppose, Pally dear," she mocked the
girl sliding slowly but surely out of her chair. "But I don't mind.
Shows how truly you love me. There, you will feel better on the rug.
I knew you were coming." Judith had landed.

"I believe I'll sleep here," declared Judith, one end of the
international carpet sample was bunched up under her ear. "Never was
so tired on any other first or last day." The long legs shot out
straight again. "And if your secret is really thrilling Janie, pray
keep it for a more auspicious occasion. I am apt to snore when I
should groan, or even sneeze when I should----" A choking spasm
interrupted. "Don't tell me to take quinine, Janie. This is the end.
I have had it since August and it is due to depart now, exactly