"Yes, I know; I heard him talking about it. I must be sure to tell him Mamma and I are going, so he will look us up. Oh, here come Bessie and Carol; I must tell them the good news." Percy Ward's letter arrived on Wednesday morning, and on Friday afternoon soon after luncheon, Mrs. Carleton and Elsie departed for New Haven. Mr. Carleton had been called to Washington on business, and was not expected home before Saturday night. Aunt Julia was very kind, and kissed Marjorie with more affection than usual. "I really hate to leave you," she said regretfully. "If it were not for the disappointment it would have been to Elsie, I would never have accepted. I hope you will not be very lonely." "Oh, no, I won't," promised Marjorie cheerfully. She was really touched by her aunt's solicitude, and had almost, if not quite, succeeded in banishing the feelings of envy and disappointment. "I've got some hard lessons for Monday, and I want to have them all perfect, so I can write Mother that I haven't missed in any of my classes for a week. Then Hortense says she likes walking, so we can have some fine long tramps. To-morrow night will be here before I've begun to realize that you are away." But despite her cheerful assurances, Marjorie's heart was not very light when she accompanied her aunt and cousin to the lift, and saw them start, Elsie's face wreathed in smiles, and even Aunt Julia looking as if she had not altogether outgrown her interest in a football game. She went slowly back to her own room, and taking up her Greek history, determined to forget present disappointment, and spend the next hour with the Greek heroes. But to make up one's mind to do a thing, and to carry out one's good intentions are two very different matters. Marjorie conscientiously tried to fix her thoughts on "The Siege of Troy," but the recollection of Elsie's radiant face kept obtruding itself between her eyes and the printed page, and at the end of half an hour she threw down her book in despair. "There isn't any use," she said to herself, with a sigh; "I can't remember a single date. I'll ring for Hortense, and ask her to take me for a walk. Perhaps by the time we come back my wits will have left off wool-gathering, and I shall have a good long evening for studying and writing letters."