The weather had become cool and all the girls wore their tam-o'-shanters. For the first time it was noticeable how pretty the pale blue caps on the freshmen's heads looked. And the new girls likewise noted that most of the tam-o'-shanters worn-by their sophomore hostesses were pale yellow.
It was whispered then (and strange none of the freshmen had discovered it before) that the class preceding theirs at Ardmore—the present sophomores—had been forced to wear caps of a distinctive color, too. These pale yellow ones were their old caps, left over from the previous winter.
The open-air assemblages of the college were made more attractive by this scheme of a particular class color in head-wear.
There was a blot in the assembly of the freshmen on this occasion. It was not discovered in the beginning. Soon, however, there was much whispering, and looking about and pointing.
"Do you see that?" gasped Jennie, who had been straining her neck and hopping up and down on her toes to see what the other girls were looking at.
"What are you rubbering at, Heavy?" demanded Helen, inelegantly.
"Yes; what's all the disturbance?" asked Ruth.
"That girl!" ejaculated the fleshy one.
"What girl now? Any particular girl?"
"She's not very particular, I guess," returned Jennie, "or she wouldn't do it."