Then she resolutely pinned on the soft blue felt, which at least was new if not expensive, slipped on her jacket and returned to the next room.

"I'll see you at dinner, girls," she said. "Good-bye, Miss Windsor."

"I'm going to dinner with Adele at Beta Phi," announced Judy.

Adele occupied what the girls now called the "hoodoo suite" at Beta Phi. This was none other than Judith Blount's old apartment, afterwards sub-let to the unfortunate Millicent Porter.

"Shall Nance and I call by for you on the way to vespers, then?" asked Molly.

"I'm not going to vespers. You don't mind, do you, Molly?"

Ever since they had been at college the three girls had kept their engagement for vespers on Sunday afternoons. They had actually been known to refuse other invitations in order to keep this friendly compact. And Judy was breaking away from what had come to be an established custom. Of course, it was just this once and absurd to feel disappointed, only Molly, glancing over Judy's head at Adele standing by the window, had caught a glint of triumph in her eyes. What was she after, anyway? Did she wish to wean the tempestuous Judy from her old friends? The two girls exchanged a quick, meaningful look.

"We'll miss you, Judy," said Molly, and went into the corridor, closing the door softly behind her. Hardly had she reached the head of the staircase, when Judy came tearing after her.

"You aren't angry with me, Molly, dearest?" she cried. "Adele and I have a wonderful scheme on hand. I'll tell you what it is some day. Don't you think she's perfectly fine? So handsome—so clever——"

"Yes, indeed," answered Molly, trying to be truthful. "I hope you'll have a beautiful time, Judy, but we'll miss you just the same, especially on the walk afterwards. Had you forgotten about the walk?"

"Oh dear, Molly, you are hurt," ejaculated Judy, who couldn't bear to be in anybody's black books, yet, nevertheless, desired to have her own way.

"I'm not, indeed, Judy. We can't tie ourselves to Sunday afternoon engagements. Nance and I wouldn't have you feel that way for anything."

The stormy Judy, calmed by these assuring words, returned to her rooms, while Molly hurried downstairs and across the campus toward the infirmary.

A number of people had gathered at the door of the hospital. Dr. McLean's buggy and a doctor's motor car waited outside. There was an ominous look about the picture that filled Molly with dark forebodings. Most of the people in the group at the door were members of the faculty, Miss Pomeroy, Miss Bowles and the Professor of French literature. They were talking in low voices. Dodo Green and Andy McLean leaned against the wall of the house, their hands thrust deep in their pockets, their faces the very picture of dejection. Molly began to run.

"He's dead!" a voice cried in her heart. "Oh, Dodo," she exclaimed to the Professor's young brother, who had run out to meet her, "please tell me quickly what has happened."

"The old boy's had a tough time, Miss Molly," said Dodo, struggling hard to keep his voice from breaking. "He had one of those infernal sinking spells about ten this morning. It was his heart, they say. It's been something awful, just a fight to keep him alive. But he's come through it. The doctor from Exmoor came over to help Andy's father." Dodo paused and gulped back his tears and Molly did not dare trust herself to speak.

"Let's walk a little way down the avenue," he said presently. "I feel all bowled over from anxiety and waiting around so long."

"I know, I know, poor Dodo," said Molly sympathetically. "But he'll get well, now. I'm sure of it. The doctor said his fine constitution would carry him along."

"The doctor was thinking of what Edwin used to be, say a year ago. The old boy has been overworking. The truth is," he added in a burst of confidence, "he got into debt somehow; borrowed money on prospects that didn't materialize, or something."

Instantly the thought of the comic opera came into Molly's head.

"And he worked all summer without taking any vacation, night and day. Grace was abroad or she never would have allowed it. He just weakened his constitution until he was ready to take any disease that happened to be floating around."

It was a great relief to Dodo's pent-up feelings to talk and he now poured out his troubles to listening, sympathetic Molly.

"Grace and I don't know what he wanted to use the money for——"

"Maybe it was for the opera."

"No, I know for a fact it wasn't that infernal old opera, though writing it was one of the things, that pulled him down. But the debt's all paid now and the good old boy is lying at death's door as a result. By the way," he added, drawing a key from his pocket, "Sister wants me to get something out of Edwin's office on the cloisters. Will you come with me, Miss Molly? There are such a lot of girls always in the court on Sunday."

"I only wish I could do more for you, Dodo," answered Molly, as the two young people hastened across the campus.

"I guess you know as much about the old boy's office as I do, Miss Molly," said Dodo opening the study door. "I'm glad you came along to help me find what I am looking for."

"What are you looking for?"

"Did you ever see a blue paper weight on his desk?"

"Oh, yes. Lots of times."

"Well, that's just what he wants. He's got a sort of delirious notion in his poor old head that he'd like that blue paper weight. It's enough to make a strong man shed tears, and he's so weak he couldn't pick up a straw. Alice Fern brought it to him from Italy."

"Oh," said Molly.

They found the blue paper weight in one of the drawers of the desk and Dodo thrust it into his pocket. There was a strong smell of over-ripe apples in the office and Molly presently discovered two disintegrated wine saps in the Japanese basket on the table.

"We'd better take these," she said, seizing one in each hand and following Dodo into the corridor.

The young people parted in the arcade and Molly went into the library and hid herself in one of the deep window embrasures with a book she only pretended to be reading. That afternoon the Reverend Gustavus Larsen repeated the prayers for the sick, and Molly in a far back pew hoped that Nance could not see the tears that trickled down her cheeks.

Contents

CHAPTER III.

GOSSIP OVER THE TEACUPS.

The gloom that had been hanging over Wellington since Professor Green's illness gradually lifted as the young man steadily improved. Each morning Molly received the latest news from one of the nurses. Miss Grace was never visible. She was sitting up at night with her brother and slept during the day. One morning Molly encountered not the day nurse but Miss Alice Fern in the hall of the infirmary. She was dressed in white linen and might have been taken for a post-graduate nurse except that she wore no cap. Miss Fern had a cold greeting for Molly, and for Judith Blount, also, who presently joined them.

"Edwin is much better," she informed them.

"He is seeing people now, isn't he?" asked Judith eagerly.

Miss Fern stiffened.

"No," she answered, "only me—and his brother and sister, of course." She added this as an afterthought. "It will be many