“You are as good as gold to us, Miss Remson,” was Marjorie’s appreciation. Taking up her glass of delicious amber-colored punch with its tempting dashes of plump scarlet cherries she proposed a toast to their kindly friend. “We forgot to tell you where we were going, Miss Remson,” Marjorie said apologetically when the commotion attending the drinking of the toast had subsided. “We’re going to Hamilton Arms to see Miss Susanna. Robin and I feel as though we could hardly go there soon enough to thank her for her latest perfectly splendid kindness to us. You must know about it?” She fixed inquiring eyes on the manager. “Yes; Leila and Vera told me. We thought you would go to see her first of all.” “I wish you were going with us,” Marjorie said regretfully. “This isn’t the age of miracles,” the manager retorted with dry humor. “Some have come to pass. There are sure to be more some day.” Marjorie chose to take this hopeful view. She knew of no two persons whom she would rather bring together than Miss Remson and Miss Susanna Hamilton. She wished each to discover and appreciate the other’s manifold virtues. Miss Susanna, however, refused to extend her acquaintance on the campus. Aside from the two or three formal interviews she had had with President Matthews none but the nine girls who were Marjorie’s intimates had been accorded her favor. “Into the midst of the toast drinking now dashed a slender, brown-haired girl in a white linen frock. Her color ran high with happy anticipation; her eyes were dancing. Marjorie set her half-filled glass of nectar on the table in time to prevent a spill and gathered in the newcomer. “Katherine Langly, and such a whirlwind! Who’d ever suspect you of being faculty?” she cried. “Leila was going to telephone you.” “Who told you to come here? Now I know you met a leprechaun hiding behind a tree on the campus and he whispered in your ear and slipped away.” Leila looked uncanny wisdom. “I never saw sign of one, but I did see old Amos. I was over at Wenderblatts and he came there to mow the lawn. He’d been mowing the campus just below the Hall and he told Lillian and me that he had seen Miss Dean and some more young ladies getting out of a car in front of the Hall. As soon as I heard I ran for the Hall. Lillian had callers so she couldn’t come. She sent her dearest love.” Katherine poured forth this explanation with an animation she had never possessed in her freshman and sophomore days at Hamilton. Marjorie watched her in fascination. She was well content with the change in Katherine. Once she had been a sad, subdued, retiring mouse of a girl. She had now blossomed into a lively, high-spirited young woman. The youngest member of the faculty she was respected by her colleagues for her brilliant mentality. She had also won high honors in the Silver Pen, a literary sorority, as an author of unusual promise. Kathie’s arrival was the signal for a second round of nectar.