"Oh, Bet, be sensible! Hasn't your observation in the past taught you that homesick girls don't go to Assembly Hall to cry? They tuck their silly heads under their protecting pillows in their own room. Let's go to Freshman Lane."
"Why Freshman?" Angela inquired softly. "Freshmen are too young and excited to be homesick so soon. Let's go to the Sophs quarters."
They went, tapping gently at every door all the way down the corridor, but received no response.
"They're a heartless lot," Betty declared at the last door. "Not one of them in tears. It's not right, they're entirely too cheerful for so young a class." And she scowled wrathfully as an indication of her displeasure.
"Never mind, Bet," Lois laughed, "maybe we'll have better luck with the Juniors."
Betty took heart and led the way.
Lois was right, though the doleful sobs that met their ears at the door of Junior Mansions—nicknamed the year before because the present Seniors had been so very elegant—could hardly be called luck.
"Jemima!" Betty exclaimed. "A deluge, our search proves fruitful at last."
Polly went to the door through which the sounds came and pushed it open.
The room was dark. The light from the hall cast a streak over the bare floor and discovered a heap of something half on, and half off the bed. At one side of the room a wicker suitcase stood beside the dresser, its swelling sides proclaimed it still unpacked. A hat and coat were flung on the chair—but these were minor details. The heart-breaking sobs filled every corner of the room, and the figure on the bed heaved convulsively with each one.