The brisk walk across the campus in the crisp winter air cooled her anger, and by the time she had reached the house she felt her resentment, in a measure, vanishing. "You were right, Emma," she announced as she walked into their room where Emma sat plodding laboriously through her weekly mending. "About Evelyn?" "Yes." Emma finished the sleeve of the blouse she was mending with a flourish. Then, casting a swift, upward glance at Grace, she began singing dolorously. "Mend, mend, mend, On the waist that's weary and worn. Stitch, stitch, stitch, Each tatter so jagged and torn. Collar and cuffs and sleeves, Cobble and darn and baste, Before they gape in a ghastly row, And shriek the dirge of the waist." Grace's gloomy expression changed to a faint smile which broadened as Emma's chant went on. At the end of the verse she laughed outright. "I couldn't be sad for long with you about, Emma," she said affectionately. "How can you think of such funny things on the spur of the moment?" "Oh, I don't know," drawled Emma. "Tell me about everything, Gracious." "I will," nodded Grace, "but I must run downstairs to the kitchen for a minute. I'll be back directly." It was fifteen minutes before she returned. Emma had finished her mending and was on her knees before the chiffonier putting her waists away. "Now I'll tell you," began Grace. Emma turned her head to listen, but before Grace had time to begin the door was flung violently open and Evelyn Ward rushed in, her blue eyes bright with anger. "How could you tell Miss Sheldon that I didn't go to New York with you? You could have helped me and she wouldn't have said a word to Miss Wilder. Now I shall be expelled from college and it is all your fault. You are--" At this juncture, however, Emma Dean took a hand. Without giving Grace an opportunity to say a word she marched over to the excited Evelyn. "Miss Ward, leave this room instantly, and do not come into it again until you have asked Miss Harlowe to pardon you." In contrast to Evelyn's half-screamed denunciation Emma's voice was low and even, but it vibrated with stern command. "I--she--" began Evelyn, but the look in Emma's eyes was too much for her. With a half-sobbing cry of anger she rushed from the room. CHAPTER XIX AN UNINTENTIONAL LISTENER "Delightful young person," commented Emma dryly, as the resounding slam of the door echoed through the room. Grace walked slowly over to the chair which she had been occupying when Evelyn had made her tempestuous entrance, and sat down. There was a brief silence, then, "Do you suppose Miss Wilder will send Evelyn home?" "Grace, you aren't going to try to intercede for that hateful girl after this," Emma's tones quivered with vexation. "I don't know. I suppose it wouldn't be of much use. Miss Wilder won't tolerate out and out disobedience. I--yes, Emma, I'm going to see if I can save her. I'm going now."