CHAPTER III

THE MISFIT FRESHMAN


Yes, they were back in college and work was waiting. This thought
invaded confused brains and stood out like a corporal of the guard,
shouting orders into lazy ears on Wellington campus next morning.

Jane Allen threw first one slipper and then another at Judith
Stearns' bed across the room from her own. But still Judith's hand
ignored the hair brush on the chair at her elbow.

"Judy," called Jane, "the warning bell has warned. Turn down the
corner on that dream and wake up." Each word of this climbed a note
in tone until the last was almost a shout. Then Judith's hand moved
to Jane's slipper on her own (Judith's) forget-me-nots, the little
floral pieces that adorned a very dainty garment with the embroidery
on Judith's chest--arms and neck ignored in the pattern.

"What say?" she muttered sleepily.

"Up," answered Jane. "Ever hear that little word before?"

"Yep, pony riding," drawled Judith. "Up, up, one, two, three, go!"
and at this Judith sprang up with such vigor and volume (in point of
scope) that she sprang over the neighboring bed and swooped down on