"Her name is Anne, then," thought Grace. "I shall call her so at once and break the ice."
"Anne," she said aloud, "I think you know my friends, don't you—Jessica Bright and Nora O'Malley? And I am Grace Harlowe."
"Oh, yes," replied Anne, brightening at the friendly advances of the others. "I remember your names from the roll call."
"Of course," replied Grace. "But I think we should all be more to each other than roll-call acquaintances, we freshmen. I am very ambitious for our class. I want it to be the best that ever graduated from Oakdale High School, and for that reason, I think all the girls in it should try to be friends and work together to advance the cause. I'm going to start the ball rolling by giving a tea to our class next Saturday afternoon. Will you come and receive with Jessica and Nora and me?"
Anne clasped her hands delightedly for a moment. Then her eyes filled with tears and her lips trembled so that the girls were afraid she might be going to cry. Tender-hearted Jessica turned her face away for fear of showing too much sympathy.
"I'm sorry," said Anne at last, rather unsteadily, "but I am afraid I can't accept your delightful invitation. I——"
"I beg your pardon," said a voice at the door, "I didn't mean to intrude on your visitors, Anne, but I couldn't help overhearing Miss Harlowe's invitation."
A small woman, much older than Anne, but very like her in face and figure, appeared at the door.
"This is my sister," said Anne, taking the other's hand affectionately.
"Anne imagines she can't go, but she certainly can," went on the older Miss Pierson, calmly, not in the least embarrassed by the strange young girls. "Of course, she must go. I can arrange it easily."