"Thanks awfully," said Miss Egerton, sitting down on a pile of rugs and
mattresses that had been stacked around the fireplace. Jean went off to
get her orders from the head usher. There was really nothing to do but
walk around and look pretty, the head usher told her. The rush to the
gallery had begun, but the janitors and the night-watchman were managing
that. Of course when the faculty began to come--

"Oh, yes," said Jean, and hurried back to Beatrice.

"Good-looking lot of ushers," she said.

Beatrice nodded. "You have a lot of pretty girls in 19--."

"To say nothing of having the college beauty," added Jean.

"Of course," said Beatrice. "Nobody in college can touch Eleanor Watson
for looks. There she is now, talking to Betty Wales and Kate Denise."

"No," chuckled Jean, "that's Laura Perkins. Their back views are
amazingly alike, but wait till you see Laura's face. No, the lady Eleanor
wouldn't come to the game. She's in the sulks."

"Seems to be her chronic state nowadays," said Beatrice. "Talking to her
is like walking on a hornet's nest. What's the particular cause of
grievance to-day?"

"Oh, the committee didn't accept her basket-ball song," said Jean, "and I
was on the committee."

Beatrice lifted her eyebrows. "She actually had the nerve to write--to