"My name is Allison," said the woman, wholly unaware of the
bombshell she had exploded. "I am a widow and quite alone in the
world. My husband died a number of years ago."

"I knew it, I knew it," muttered Grace.

"What did you say, my dear?" asked Mrs. Allison.

But Grace was silent. The woman was too nervous as yet to hear the
news. Perhaps after all the name was a mere coincidence.

Anne, understanding Grace's silence, hurriedly took up the
conversation.

"Are you familiar with this part of the country?" she asked.

"I have not been here for a number of years," replied Mrs.
Allison, "although my friends, the Gibsons, have sent me repeated
invitations. Mrs. Gibson and I went through Vassar together."

"We expect to go to college next year," said Grace. "We are
seniors in Oakdale High School."

"The years a young girl spends in college are usually the happiest
of her whole life," said Mrs. Allison, with a sigh. "Everything is
rose colored. She forms high ideals that help to sweeten life for
her long after her college career is over. The friendships she
forms are usually worth while, too. Mrs. Gibson and I have kept
track of one another even since graduation. We have shared our
joys and sorrows, and in my darkest hours her loyal friendship and