Both girls searched everywhere they knew of, but they could find no trace of the beads. "It's the strangest thing I ever heard of," said Jean. "We can't do much until after vacation, for every one will go away to-morrow. I'll put a notice on our bulletin board and report the loss to--who's the proctor on our floor this week?" "Grace Hooper," said Elizabeth. "Well, I'll run down to her room a minute and tell her about it and then I'll be ready to turn in." When she returned she told Elizabeth that Grace Hooper and Mary Boynton thought it best to say or do nothing about the loss of the beads until college began again Monday morning. Perhaps by that time the beads would have been found and they would be saved the unpleasant duty of investigation. When the two girls stepped into the train at the North Station the next day they found it crowded to the utmost with happy travelers returning home for the holidays. There did not seem to be any seats together, so they stood their suit-cases at one end of the car and perched upon them to wait until some of the passengers should alight at the first station. Several of the college girls they knew were homeward bound on the same train and joined them, using their bulging cases as seats. It began to snow lightly soon after the train started, and as they went farther north they found evidences of recent snow storms, and when they reached Wilton Junction they found it piled up in great drifts round the station. As they alighted from the train they looked in vain for "Brother Dick" or Dr. Fairfax. "Don't be alarmed, Jean, I never know when any one will meet me. You see, doctors are likely to be called out any time miles and miles, and when you've got only one horse on the place you get used to waiting. Let's go into the station and keep warm, and for excitement we can get weighed or read the time-tables on the wall." Huddled round a great old-fashioned stove in the center of the room were a dozen or so people waiting for belated trains. They forgot the cold or disappointment at missing their train when they saw the two girls. It was not often they had such a good-looking stranger as Jean Cabot to gaze upon. She did make a picture there in her dingy surroundings with her long fur coat and little fur turban with two iridescent quills stuck jauntily through the front. The blackness of the fur as it rested against her hair intensified its golden hue and the fair whiteness of her skin. From one corner where he apparently had been dozing arose a long-legged, lackadaisical-looking fellow, who strolled up to where the two girls were standing.