"I don't know that that's such an awful _faux pas_," Blue Bonnet said with asperity. "They always have afternoon tea at Oxford. Alec Trent has a friend there and he told him so." "Well--in England--that's different. It's so awfully English, you know." "That's why I thought maybe they did it at Harvard. Because it is so awfully English, you know!" Blue Bonnet's eyes twinkled mischievously. A few hours later, as the girls were on their way to the gymnasium to dance, Mrs. White overtook Sue and stopped her for a moment. "It is all right, Susan," she said. "Miss North is very glad to have you accept your brother's invitation for Friday afternoon, and I shall go with pleasure." Sue's feet took wings as she caught up with Blue Bonnet and Annabel. "We can go," she announced breathlessly. "Friday! Harvard! I just knew we could. Isn't it great? At two-thirty, remember! And girls! Don't forget--borrow everything you can, and look stunning!" CHAPTER XV A HARVARD TEA Stillness reigned in the study hall: stillness save for the occasional rattle of a book, or the falling of a pen or pencil from careless fingers. The large clock at the back of the room ticked regularly, and its hands pointed to a quarter past one. At the desk Fraulein Herrmann sat, her watchful eyes roaming over the assemblage in search of idleness or disorder. Only a moment before her stentorian tones had rung forth, much to the annoyance of two girls who came under her supervision. "Emma-_line_ and Jassa-_mine_ Brown may report at the desk at the end of the period." Emmalyn and Jassamine Brown, twins, were as much the bane of Fraulein's life as were Mary Boyd and Peggy Austin. Fraulein was not stupid. She had learned that to call forth these names, distorting them with almost unrecognizable inflection, brought its own punishment. Emmalyn slammed down a book on her desk, her face flushed with mortification. She whispered something to her sister. "You may say what you have to say to the room, Miss Emma-_line_," Fraulein invited. Emmalyn paid not the slightest heed. "Miss Brown! Answer when I speak! Why do you not answer?" "I didn't know you were addressing me. My name is not Emma-_line_!" She drew out the "line" with provoking mimicry. Fraulein reddened; but she held her peace. She had encountered Emmalyn Brown before. Sometimes disastrously. At her desk Blue Bonnet worked busily, glancing often at the clock. She was writing a theme, and writing against time. At one-forty-five her paper must be in Professor Howe's hands. There was a strained expression in her eyes as, elbow on desk, she ran her fingers through her hair by way of inducement to thought. "It's no use," she said in a whisper to Wee Watts, who occupied a seat with her, "I can't get my brain in working order to-day to save me. Have you a glimmer of an idea about Emerson's essay on 'Compensation?' I've got to write it up." Wee's face looked as blank as a stone wall.