"So much for Queen's," said Margaret Wakefield. "She's dead and now what's to be done?" It was decided that the girls should go to O'Reilly's for the time being, all other available quarters being about filled. If they preferred the post-office they could stay there; but they preferred O'Reilly's. And thither, also, went Mrs. Markham and the Murphys and the maids from Queen's. In a few short hours, it would seem, Queen's had been changed to O'Reilly's, or O'Reilly's to Queen's. It turned out, too, that Mrs. O'Reilly was nearly related to Mr. Murphy, and all things, therefore, worked together in harmony. O'Reilly's seemed a place of warmth and comfort to the half-frozen girls who clustered around the big fire in Judy's room at five o'clock that afternoon, scalding their tongues with hot tea and coffee while they discussed their plans for the future. "Mrs. Markham told _me_," announced Margaret, a recognized authority on all subjects, political, domestic, financial and literary, "that it would probably be arranged to make O'Reilly's into a college house for the rest of the winter. She said they might even do over the rooms. It would be a smaller household than Queen's, of course--only eight or nine--but it would be rather cosy and--there would be no breaking up of old ties. If this isn't approved," she continued, exactly as if she were addressing a class meeting, "we shall have to scatter. There's another apartment in the Quadrangle and there are a few singletons left in some of the campus houses. Now, girls,"--her voice took on an oratorical ring--"of course, I know that we are nearly fifteen minutes' walk by the short cut from the college and that we may not be _in_ things as much; but the best part of college we have here at O'Reilly's. And that's ourselves. I move that we change O'Reilly's into Queen's and make the best of it for the rest of the winter." "Hurrah! I second the motion," cried Katherine Williams. "All those in favor of this motion will please say 'aye'," said the President. "Aye," burst from the throats of the eight friends, Otoyo's shrill high note sounding with the others. "Hurrah for our President," cried Molly, dancing around the room in an excess of happiness. "_Unitus et concordia_," said Edith gravely. "It's really Molly that's transformed O'Reilly's into Queen's," continued Margaret, who had a generous, big way of saying things when she chose. "It's Molly who has kept us all together. With Molly and Nance and Judy gone, Queen's would have been a different place." "It would! It would!" they cried. "Three cheers for Molly Brown!" "'Here's to Molly Brown, drink her down! Here's to dear old Queen's, drink her down.'" Through the din of singing and cheering, there came a loud knocking at the door and a voice cried: "Open in the name of the law!" Then the door was thrust open and Sallie Marks marched in flourishing a hot-water bag in one hand and a thermos bottle in the other.