The belated express thundered into the station with a force which shook the platform. Instinctively the scattered groups of persons on the platform drew back a trifle as the first three coaches shot past. It was a long train and it did not take more than a second glance down its length to note that the last coach was quite different from the others. "Private car!" Leila's low exclamation held more than surprise. It was sarcastically significant. "Behold the Philistines are upon us," she continued in pretended consternation. "We needn't mind a little thing like that," Jerry assured with a genial smile. "They won't be met and fussed over by us. I wonder where the mob is who ought to be at the station to greet these celebrated geese?" "They certainly chose a poor day for a triumphal return." Muriel indulged in a soft chuckle at the Sans' expense. She broke off in the middle of it with a jubilant cry of, "Girls; there's Hortense just getting off the train three coaches up the platform!" "Hooray! Nella and Selma are with her!" This from Leila, whose eyes had picked up dignified Hortense Barlow descending the car steps immediately. Muriel had cried out. Following her were the two juniors of whom Leila and Vera were so fond. The unwelcome Sans entirely forgotten, Leila, Muriel and Vera headed an orderly rush up the platform. All of the station party were anxious to give the three juniors a hearty reception. Marjorie and Ronny happened to be the last of the little procession. The former bore in mind her chief object in coming-to the station and kept a sharp lookout for freshmen. Just as they reached the edge of the group which had closed in about the three arrivals, Marjorie's searching eyes spied a small, flaxen-haired young woman with wide-opened blue eyes and a babyish expression, coming toward her. The latter was burdened with a heavy seal traveling case and a bag of golf sticks. She had evidently emerged from the coach behind the one from which Nella and her two companions had come. As she advanced, she gazed about her with a slightly perplexed air. "Pardon me." Marjorie had stepped instantly to her side. "Are you a freshman? I am Marjorie Dean, of the sophomore class, and hope I can be of service to you. I am one of a sophomore committee to welcome arriving freshmen." "Oh, thank you. Delighted, I'm sure, to know you, Miss Dean." The newcomer's conventionally courteous tone conveyed no particular enthusiasm. "Yes; I am a freshman. At least, I hope so. I have one exam. to try. I flunked in geometry at the prep school I attended last year. Had a tutor all summer. Guess I'll scrape through this time." "I hope you will," Marjorie made sincere return. She half offered a hand to the other girl. The latter did not appear to see it. She clung tightly to her bag of golf sticks and traveling case. Far from paying undivided attention to Marjorie, her wide blue eyes roved over the platform, the light of curiosity strong within them.