The rich glow of perfect health, deepened a little by exercise, was on her cheeks; a happy smile wreathed her lips. Her hair had been tossed about a trifle by the breeze, and lay in a light, fluffy network low on her brow, which gleamed white as ivory beneath it. Her hand trembled a little as she took the telegram and opened it, but as she caught sight of the cheering words within she seemed almost transfigured. Her eyes lighted and sparkled with unusual brilliancy; the vivid color ran swiftly up to her temples and she laughed a clear, musical, happy laugh, that rang through the great hall like some sweet silver bell. “You evidently have some good news, Miss Huntress,” the principal remarked, his usually grave face involuntarily relaxing into a sympathetic smile at her delight. “Indeed, I have, sir;” she returned. “My—a friend has taken the first honors for this year at Yale.” She flushed again, for she had almost forgotten to whom she was speaking, and nearly said, “My dear old Geoffrey,” but checked herself and called him a friend. “You need not have corrected yourself,” replied the professor, with a twinkle of his eyes. “If the ‘friend’ is your brother you should not allow your modesty to prevent your acknowledging it.” Gladys’ eyes drooped half guiltily at this. She could not explain that Geoffrey was not her brother, but something far dearer, and yet her sense of truthfulness made her shrink from giving a wrong impression. “You will be able to send him as pleasant tidings in return, will you not? You have also been appointed valedictorian, I believe?” the gentleman continued. “Yes, sir.” “I am almost inclined to think that two valedictorians out of one household are more than a fair allowance, especially for one year; your parents must be very proud over two such brilliant children. Are there any more of you to keep up the credit of the family?” the principal inquired, laughing. “No, sir, Geoffrey and I are all there are,” Gladys answered, and then tripped away to reply to Geoffrey’s telegram with a jubilant letter. “I am delighted with you, dear Geoff,” she wrote. “Your telegram has made me the happiest girl at Vassar, though my heart failed me a trifle before I opened it, fearing that it might contain bad news. How proud I am of you! for you have climbed mountains of difficulties to attain your goal. “Now let me whisper a little bit of news in your ear. I have won my spurs, too—if I may be allowed to use that expression—and as I shall graduate a few days before you take your degree, can’t you come to Vassar to honor the occasion with your presence? Papa and mamma will be here, but the day will not be complete without you.” Geoffrey replied that nothing should keep him away; that he would be with her bright and early on commencement day, but would have to return to New Haven at three in the afternoon, as he still had much to do to prepare for the final exercises of his own class.