"She was more moved than she would admit over being asked to join them," returned Miriam. "She used to make ridiculous remarks about them and call them the P. B. Gammas, but in her heart she looked upon them with positive awe. Wasn't it nice to think we were all asked?" "I should say so," agreed Grace. "It would have been dreadful if one of us had been left out." She patted her sorority pin with intense satisfaction. "In spite of belonging to the most important sorority in college, there never will be another sorority like the Phi Sigma Tau, will there, girls?" "No," said Miriam, smiling with a reminiscent tenderness at sound of the familiar name. "Dear old P. S. T.," murmured Anne. "How I wish we might call a meeting now and have every member present." "There is bound to be one vacant place when we gather home next week," said Grace a trifle sadly. "The Lady Eleanor," sighed Miriam. "I hope we'll see her some time next year." The arrival of Elfreda, her arms filled with bundles, cut short Miriam's reflections. One by one Elfreda calmly laid down her packages and began preparations for her tissue paper tea. The stout girl's mood seemed to have changed, however. She answered her companions' gay sallies rather abstractedly, with the air of one whose thoughts were anywhere but on her guests. Several times Grace glanced up to find Elfreda's eyes fixed reflectively upon her. When, at five o'clock, she announced her intention of going for a walk before dinner, Elfreda gave her another peculiar look and announced her intention of accompanying her. Anne and Miriam, who had elected to occupy the time before dinner in writing to the Southards, declined Grace's invitation, and as the two girls walked briskly down the street, Elfreda breathed a deep sigh of relief. "With all due respect to Miriam and Anne, I am glad they didn't join us," she said coolly. "What is on your mind now?" asked Grace shrewdly. "So you realize at last that there is something on my mind, do you!" retorted Elfreda grimly. "I began to think you never could. I made all kinds of signals to you with my eyes." "I thought they were signals, but wasn't sure," said Grace quickly. "Well, you can be sure now. I don't want you to think me a Paul Pry, but I know all about that Christmas business last year." "What 'Christmas business'?" asked Grace sharply. "You know very well what I mean, the eight girls and all that." "Why--who----" began Grace in displeased astonishment. "No, I didn't try to find out," interrupted Elfreda. "You know me better than that. No one told me, either. I just put two and two together. I could see last year that----" "Is there anything you can't see?" exclaimed Grace. "Not much," responded Elfreda modestly. "I knew, of course, you would do something for those girls this year." "You could see that, I suppose," said Grace satirically.