The instant she had finished her breakfast, Grace reannounced her
intention of unpacking her trunk and rose to leave the table. Anne
followed her, a curious smile on her face. The majority of the girls
rose from the table at the same time, or immediately after, and went
their various ways.

"Now," declared Grace energetically, "I am going to begin my labor."

"What did you say you were going to do?" asked Anne innocently.

"Unpack my trunk. I--why--I--haven't any trunk to unpack!" exclaimed
Grace in bewilderment. Then catching sight of Anne's mirthful face,
she sprang forward, caught Anne by the shoulders and shook her
playfully. "Anne Pierson, you bad child, you heard me make all my
plans for unpacking, yet you wouldn't remind me that my trunk was
still at the station."

"I couldn't resist keeping still and allowing you to plan,"
confessed Anne. "What a joke that would be for the grind book!"

"Yes, wouldn't it though?" agreed Grace sarcastically. "However, we
are not freshmen, and as my roommate I strictly forbid you to publish
my stupidity broadcast. Having the unpacking fever in my veins, I
shall console myself with unpacking my bag and suit case. I'll keep
on wishing for my trunk and perhaps it will come." Grace walked to
the window. She leaned out, peering anxiously down the road. Then,
with a cry of delight, she exclaimed: "Come here, Anne."

Anne walked obediently to the window.