"Charlie would have enjoyed all this even more than I have," went on the Major. "It would have been just what he would have done under the circumstances. I saw the wreath, you see, and it touched me very deeply." "The girls will appreciate your kindness all the more when I tell them," said Molly, not knowing how else to express the sympathy she felt. "Ah, well, it all happened half a century ago," he said, shaking her hand and patting it gently at the same time. "He is a dear," thought Molly, following him into the hall. She saw one other photograph in the Fern house that interested her. It was a picture of Professor Edwin Green, very elaborately framed, standing on a dressing table in one of the bedrooms. Alice Fern kept well in the background while her mother and father and elder sister entertained the senior class of Wellington. She had done her duty by the lunch and she was not going to mingle in this crowd of unknowns. "I never could bear a college romp," she had said to her mother who had remonstrated with her daughter. "I trust you don't call your mother a college romp," answered the old lady indignantly. "Not at all, Mama. You belonged to the early days of Wellington before romps came into existence," Alice replied sharply. "I'm sure you may have to see a great deal of college, if----" began Mrs. Fern, and broke off abruptly. Alice shrugged her shoulders. "If--if----" she thought. "How I detest that word." On the way back that afternoon the old Queen's girls held a council of war. "I think we ought to make it our business to find out who played this trick on us," cried Margaret, "if it takes detective work to do it. Our dignity as seniors has been attacked and the standards of Wellington lowered." "I don't believe any juniors had a hand in it," put in Judy, "because we are so friendly with them." Nance nudged Molly. "She's afraid somebody's going to blame that charming Adele," she whispered. "If it's any of the Wellington girls, it's more likely to be among the sophomores," announced Edith decisively. "They were rather a wild lot last year but we were too busy to notice them; a good deal like a gang of bad boys in their own set; always playing practical jokes----" "Yes, but would they dare play jokes on us?" interrupted Margaret. "They'd dare do anything," answered Edith. "Anne White is the ringleader. I only know her by sight so I can't judge of her character, but I heard that Miss Walker had her on the grill several times last winter." "What does she look like?" some one asked. "Why, she's as demure as anything; a petite, brown-haired, inconspicuous little person. You'd never suspect her of being so daring, but I happen to know of one reckless performance of hers that Prexy hasn't heard of." "Do tell," they demanded with breathless curiosity. "You'll let it go no farther? Word of honor, now?" "Word of honor," they repeated in a chorus.