"Well, well, if it ain't Miss Briggs," beamed the old man joyfully. His
remembrance of J. Elfreda was decidedly pleasant. She had always paid him
generously for the numerous errands he had run for her. He greeted Grace
with equal enthusiasm, and bobbed like a nodding mandarin before Mrs.
Gray.

"I hope you have been well, Mr. Symes. How is your wife and how do you
like being caretaker of Harlowe House?" asked Grace.

"I'm well, miss, and so's my wife. It's a fine place, miss, that Harlowe
House, an' it'll be finer still when fall comes and it's full of Overton
students. We're pretty proud of our young ladies, we Overton folks. Excuse
me, miss, I'll go over to my house and get the key. I'll be right along."

"He has a whole lot of real college spirit," commented Elfreda, "or he
couldn't speak so beautifully of the Overton girls."

"He always was a perfect old dear," agreed Grace warmly.

The caretaker soon overtook them with the key, and the little company
crossed the street and traversed the deserted campus.

"How strangely still everything is," commented Grace. "Not in the least
like it was six months ago, is it, Elfreda?"

"It gives me the blues," averred Elfreda in a low tone.

"Here we are," called Mrs. Gray, with a cheery attempt at dispelling the
tiny cloud of dejection that had fallen over the two girls. "Harlowe House