dragging-down evening. If you have anything you value, that might get
in the drag, take notice," and she left the room, to gather in the
innocent victims of her plot.

Dorothy laughed. She did love Tavia, and once more they were
separating from the days and nights spent together at dear old
Glenwood. The girls had occupied room "nineteen" in spite of the fact
that their advance in class entitled them to other quarters, but each
loved the apartment, and they had "grown into it," as Tavia remarked.

"I believe I had better rescue my things," mused Dorothy, "for there
is no telling where the dragging may end," and, suiting her act to the
words, she promptly put a pile of cushions on the highest chair, and
began to take from her side of the room such trinkets as are
inconceivably dear to the heart of every schoolgirl.

How differently her division of the room was decorated! Tavia had
actually drawn a line--clothes line--straight across the room, marking
out the territory of each. Dorothy had put up pictures, birds' nests,
flags and the home colors, while Tavia had revelled in collapsed
footballs, moth-eaten slouch hats, shot through and through, and
marked with all sorts of labels, of the college lad variety. Then she
had a broken bicycle wheel, in and out of which were laced her hair
ribbons and neckties, this contrivance being resorted to in order to
save the junk from the regulation pile--it being thus marked as a
useful article. There were pictures, too, on Tavia's side of the room,
but how they got there one could never guess from a birds-eye
view--for the hanging indicated a sudden storm on "art day," without
paper-weights. This same blow included the mottoes, and wise sayings;
trophies of certain victories in the way of narrow escapes from