"Jennie!" demanded Helen. "Who do what?"
"That Frayne girl," explained her plump friend.
Rebecca Frayne stood well back in the lines of freshmen. It could not be said that she thrust herself forward, or sought to gain the attention of the crowd. Nevertheless, among the mass of pale blue tam-o'-shanters, her parti-colored one was very prominent.
"Goodness!" gasped Ruth. "Doesn't she know better?"
"Do you suppose she is one of those stubborn girls who just 'won't be driv'?" giggled Helen.
It was no laughing matter. The three days of grace written upon the seniors' order regarding the caps had now passed. There seemed no good reason for one member of the freshman class to refuse to obey the command. Indeed, they had all tacitly agreed to do as they were told—upon this single point, at least.
"There certainly are enough of them left in town so that she can buy one," Jennie Stone said.
"Goodness!" snapped Helen. "If my complexion can stand such a silly color, hers certainly can."
Before the out-of-doors concert was over, news of this rebellion on the part of a single freshman had run through the crowd like a breath of wind over ripe wheat. It almost broke up the "roar."
As the last verse of the last song was ended and the company began to disperse, the freshmen themselves, and the sophomores as well, stared at Rebecca Frayne in open wonder. She started for her room, which was in Dare Hall on the same corridor as that of the three girls from Briarwood, and Ruth and Helen and Jennie were right behind her.