Pondering still on the new mystery Jane recalled that a boy had been mentioned in connection with the mysterious fainting spell Helen suffered, just before leaving Miss Jordan’s apartment in New York. Jane herself had seen someone in the lower hall, as she went out that day with Judith, and in innocent prattle, one of the freshmen had charged Jane with having a boy caller while in New York. Now, all this was recalled by the sinister act of Marian Seaton and Dolorez Vincez, who maliciously put those two names together on that fatal card presented to Helen after her triumph. The card and Helen’s letter still lay in Jane’s lap when a tap with its three trills, Judith’s code, touched the door. Not waiting for a response Judith was in the room, almost before Jane had a chance to put the mystery safely under cover. “Jane, Redhead, Bricktop, and Carroty, et al,” cried Judith. “Stop, Look and Listen! We are going to have a big public concert and we are going to have it in Martineau Hall. Now, who says Wellington is out of date, and a back number?” “Whoever has dared to say such a thing?” recharged Jane. “I am sure I have never heard of any such accusation. But why the excitement? What is the answer?” “Don’t you know? It’s to be a big public benefit. And we are to sell tickets by mail, to all the home folks, and I can send a whole strip to my cowboy, one Fedario——” “Oh, do be sensible, Judy. I can’t see any good reason for being crazy over a mere concert.” “That’s because you don’t know the real joy of going crazy. I have been whoopeeing all over the place, and everyone but you whoopeed with me. Now, you get the dipper out, and threaten me with a cold plunge. Don’t, Jane dear. Go ahead, come on, be crazy with me,” and she all but smothered the defenceless Jane in her own good sofa pillows. “All right,” agreed Jane. “Consider me crazy. Now proceed.” “You are on the committee to get the talent. That may mean a trip to New York. I know why you got that.” “Why?” “Well, Drusilla said, and you know what a wizard Dru is—she said the faculty knew that if a Wellington check should go to protest on the high ‘C’ of some prima donna, that Henry Allen, per Redhead Jane, would make it all right at the bank.” It took a moment for that statement to filter through Jane’s brain. Then she laughed. “Oh, nonsense, Judy! You know perfectly well there are plenty of girls here richer than I am.” “Oh, yes, that is quite true, little one. But no girl is more generous, and this affair is to be one grand clean up of every old debt ever wished on our Alma Mater. Even the protested butcher bill I hear is to be paid up after the concert, and we are to go on chops again. Cheers!” “Joking aside, it will be nice to have a real affair,” assented Jane, “and I am sure we can get a wonderful array of talent. But why should you think I may be asked to interview the talent?”