Left alone, Raquel stood for a moment, smiling, excited. Well, here she was. All these girls to be friends with! And she had to learn to act pretty, like them. Dress for dinner, the teacher had said. Was there anything wrong with her new suit? She had thought it very plain-looking, but that was what they had told her to get. Did Miss Carter mean for her to wear her party dress with elbow sleeves, or should she wear the Sunday dress with long sleeves? She knelt before the bags and threw them open--calfskin bags they were, handmade, and polished from a quarter century’s use. The Sunday dress was in the trunk. They had forgotten to unstrap it, and Raquel attacked the clumsy-looking knotted rope with deft fingers. Custer was such a hand at roping, he couldn’t even let her new trunk be. Raquel was so absorbed that she did not hear the door softly open and close. “I think there must be some mistake.” It was an almost artificially sweet voice. “I have this room to myself. Perhaps you’d better not unpack until you can be transferred.” Lois’ eyes took in the cheap trunk, the heavy leather valises. Raquel rose. Surely this was the prettiest girl in the whole world. She could not take her eyes away. “I reckon you must be Lois Wainwright, aren’t you?” “Lois Wainwright is my name.” “Why, then,” the brown hand shot out again, “you’re my roommate sure enough. I’m Raquel Daniels from Los Ranchos.” But the pride and confidence in her voice faded as her empty hand fell to her side. “It was Jimmy, Jim Hovey, your cousin, who told us about The Towers. And you being here, and all. And Dad wrote--Jimmy wrote, too--to you. Maybe you didn’t get the letter. He--” Raquel stopped, checked by the utter lack of response. “I’d have known you anywheres from your picture,” she said softly then. “Really! How interesting,” Lois drawled indifferently. She fancied that her pointless remark was the essence of sarcasm. “My father, however, happened to engage my room for me early last summer. Yes, I believe Jimmy did write about you. But I don’t pretend to keep up with my cousin’s--er--acquaintances.” It didn’t take schooling for the girl from Los Ranchos to know that she was not wanted. This strange burning in her cheeks and tightness in her throat made it necessary to get away as fast as she could. Stooping quickly, Raquel closed her grips, and striding to the door, threw it open and set the bags, ever so gently this time, outside. Then back; and lifting the heavy trunk on end, she dragged it swiftly and easily to the door, and bumped it over the threshold, Lois standing there motionless, like one fascinated by what she had done. It was this tableau which flashed before Anne Marvin as she rounded the corner on her way to her room, and stopped before Lois’ open door--Lois standing cool, indifferent, in the center of the room, the new girl flushed, tense, there in the hall in the midst of her own luggage. Anne knew just what had happened. That was clear enough.