"I see," murmured Evelyn. "But suppose I borrowed the money and then found that I couldn't return it for ever so long?" "There is neither time limit set nor interest charged on any reasonable sum of money a girl may wish to borrow," returned Grace. "We have the utmost confidence in our borrowers. The very fact that they come to us for help is an avowal of their honesty. How much money do you wish to borrow, Miss Ward?" Evelyn rather hesitatingly named a sum considerably in excess of that needed for her college fees. "It--will--pay my expenses for the year and leave me a little besides for emergencies," she explained apologetically. "Then poor Ida can get well and won't have to worry. I am sure I can work at something this summer and pay at least part of the money back to the club." She swept a swift, speculative glance at Grace from under her eyelashes which quite belied her earnest tones. Grace, however, absorbed for a brief moment in her own thoughts, failed to see it. When she looked at Evelyn the latter's face bore a sweetly grateful expression that made her wonder if she had not been mistaken in her estimate of the, hitherto, troublesome freshman. Her apparent anxiety to relieve her sister of worry over financial difficulties was distinct evidence of an affection of which Grace had not believed Evelyn capable. "I have misjudged her," was Grace's thought. "She really cares for her sister." Aloud she said, "I will write at once to Miss Thayer, who is the president of the Semper Fidelis Club, and in whose name the account stands, telling her the circumstances. Thus far we have not received many calls for help since college opened, so there is quite a little money in bank. It is during the last half of the year that we make the greatest number of loans. I am sorry that your sister has been ill. If you will give me her address I will write to her to-night." Evelyn flushed hotly. "Oh, no, you mustn't!" she exclaimed sharply. "That is--I mean you--mustn't put yourself--to so much trouble for me," she added lamely. "It won't be a particle of trouble," assured Grace. "I should like to do so." Evelyn's confusion deepened. "I--can't--" she floundered. Grace regarded her with quiet, searching eyes. But before she had time to go on from wonder at Evelyn's strange objection to her writing her sister to actual suspicion, Evelyn interposed eagerly, "I'll give you the address, with pleasure, Miss Harlowe. Wait a moment." She sprang to her open writing desk and seizing a piece of paper and a pencil wrote energetically for a moment. "Here it is." She laid it before Grace, who picked it up and read, "Miss Ida Ward, 320 Duverne Street, Albany, N.Y." A puzzled frown wrinkled Grace's forehead. "I thought your sister told me she lived in Burton. I must have misunderstood her."