"You could see that, couldn't you, Elfreda?" laughed Miriam.
"How did you guess it?" asked Grace. "Yes, I should like to come back if Father and Mother can spare me."
"The rest of her friends don't count," commented Hippy Wingate.
"You know they do, Hippy," smiled Grace. "I must have the permission and good will of all of them if my work is to be a success."
"You have your mother's and my full consent, Grace," said her father loyally.
Grace made a little movement toward her parents, slipping in between them and catching a hand of each. "There is only one thing I can say, and I've said it hundreds of times before, You are the dearest father and mother a girl ever had."
It was rather a silent quartette that gathered for the last time in Grace's room that night. Emma Dean had left Overton on the evening train. So had Patience Eliot, Kathleen West and Laura Atkins. The sophomores of Wayne Hall had departed before commencement, and to-night the house was very quiet.
"And to-morrow is another day," observed Elfreda.
"So it is, my child," agreed Miriam, "but we shall spend it on the train."