"Let me see, Miss Cabot, do you care for the subject of English? It seems to me I had got the impression that you did not. Just lately, though, I have noticed a slight change for the better, in your theme work. You seem to be grasping things as though you wouldn't let go. I hope you won't. Things about you are beginning to interest you, and you're describing them excellently. However, your constructions are faulty, but that is a common fault in freshman work, and I read your theme because it furnished criticism applicable to so many other papers. You must not take criticism so to heart, for it is given always with the hope of helping others. I thank you again for coming to tell me what you did. Shall we walk down together? I go as far as Miss Thatcher's." When Jean entered the dining-room one of the freshmen called out, "Were you ill in English, Jean?" "Yes, temporarily indisposed, but I'm better now, thank you," and smiling, she took her seat. When the examination lists were posted, Jean found she had psychology and German on Tuesday, French and English on Wednesday, and music on Thursday. Each examination was to last from two to three hours and was to cover all the work of the first semester. The only one she did not dread was music, and she trembled most at thought of French and German. Monday she crammed and crammed on her German verbs and vocabularies, and at supper declared she would not take another look at them, for she had planned to spend the entire evening reading over psychology notes. When Elizabeth came upstairs after supper, she said she was going to spend the night in Mabel Livingston's room, so they could study mathematics together. Mabel's room-mate was away from college that night, so Elizabeth could have her bed. She collected her books and kissed Jean good-night, warning her not to sit up all night to study. "After you go, Elizabeth, I'm going to lock the door and I won't open it if people knock all night," she called out to Elizabeth as she left the room. She propped herself up on the couch and drew up the table with her drop-light upon it, and opened her psychology note-book to begin reading her notes. How small her writing looked and how many pages there were to be read! Soon the lines and words began to run together, and all unbeknown to her the note-book slipped to the floor but landed so softly that she did not hear it at all.