THE ANARCHIST CHOOSES HER ROOMMATE


"It's the Anarchist, of course," said Anne, turning to Grace.

"I wonder who she left roomless in the hall this time," speculated
Grace. "Shall we go and see?"

"Do you think we had better?" hesitated Anne.

"Yes," returned Grace boldly. "To a certain extent we are
responsible for the welfare of the freshmen." Opening the door, she
looked up and down the hall. Then, with a sudden air of resolution,
she walked downstairs. On the oak seat in the hall, looking
disconsolately about her, sat the "cunning" freshman that Grace had
admired. At sight of Grace she sprang toward the sophomore with an
eager, "Won't you please tell me where I can find Mrs. Elwood?"

"I believe she has gone to market," replied Grace. "She usually goes
at this time every morning. Can I help you in any way?"

"No-o," replied the other girl doubtfully. "I wished to see Mrs.
Elwood, because--" Her lip quivered. A big tear rolled down her
cheek. "Oh, I hate college," she muttered in a choking voice. "I wish
I hadn't come here. I'd go back to the station and take the next
train west, if I hadn't promised my brother that I'd stay. I hate the
east and everything in it. I know I'm going to be unhappy here."

With the smile that few people could resist, Grace sat down on the