the blue sleeve beneath the rain-coat.

The green line was just shouting itself hoarse over T. Reed, who had been
observed slinking across the apple orchard, hoping to effect her entrance
unnoticed, when Eleanor Watson hurried down the steps of the Hilton
House, carrying a sheet of paper in one hand. Hearing the shouting, she
shrugged her shoulders disdainfully and chose the route to the Westcott
House that did not lead past the gymnasium doors. As she went up the
steps of the Westcott, she met Jean Eastman coming down, her white skirts
rustling in the wind.

Jean looked at her in surprise. "Why, Eleanor, you're an usher too.
Aren't you going to dress? It's half past two this minute."

"Yes," said Eleanor curtly, "I know. I'm not going to usher. I have a
headache. Jean, where is my basket-ball song?"

"How should I know?" said Jean, smoothing the petals of the green
chrysanthemums that were festooned about her wand. "On the paper with the
rest, isn't it?"

[Illustration: THE GREEN LINE WAS SHOUTING ITSELF HOARSE]

"No," said Eleanor, "it's not. I didn't go to the class 'sing' last
night, but this noon somebody left a song sheet in my room. You said they
chose mine, Jean."

"I said," corrected Jean, "that I thought they chose it. I was on the
song committee, but I didn't go to the meeting. From your description I
thought it must be one of those that Kate said was taken."