19—’s was held in the big hall of the Students’ Building. The junior ushers had trimmed it with red and green bunting, and great bowls of red roses transformed the huge T-shaped table into a giant flower-bed.
“I hope they haven’t more than emptied the treasury for those flowers,” said Babe anxiously, when she saw them.
“Hardly,” Babbie reassured her. “Judge Watson sent the whole lot, so you needn’t worry about your treasury. He consulted me about the color. Isn’t he a dear?”
“Yes, he is,” said Bob, “and he evidently thinks his only daughter is another. Where’s the supper-chart?”
“Out in the hall,” explained Babbie, “with the whole class fighting for a chance at it. But I know where we sit. Betty thought we’d better keep things lively down at the end of the T.”
“Well, I guess, we can do that,” said Babe easily. “Where is Betty, anyway?”
“Here,” answered Betty, hurrying up. “And girls, please don’t say anything about it, but non-graduates don’t generally come to the suppers and the seating committee forgot about T. Reed, so she hasn’t any place.”
“The idea!” cried Bob indignantly. “But she can have Eleanor’s seat.”
Betty hesitated. “No, because they changed the chart after they heard about Christy’s not coming. But Cora Thorne is sick, so I’m going to let T. have my seat, right among you girls that she used to know——”
“You’re not going to do anything of the kind,” declared Babbie hotly. “Shove everybody along one place, or else put in a seat for T.”