"Yes, I am, but I don't mind that. I'm here and nothing else matters," returned the girl so fervently that Grace felt a sudden mist rise to her eyes, and she determined, then and there, that if this curious, destitute little stranger succeeded in measuring up to Overton's mental requirements, she would smooth in every possible way her path, which she foresaw would be troubled.
"And now for our triumphal entry into Harlowe House," declaimed Emma Dean, as she and Grace picked up their luggage, and, followed by Mary Reynolds and her huge newspaper-wrapped bundle, mounted the steps. At the door Grace again set down her luggage. Fumbling for her latch key she fitted it to the lock.
"What a perfectly delightful place!" was Emma's enthusiastic cry, as she stepped into the hall which was done in oak with furnishings to match. "Commend me to the living-room!" She poked her head inquisitively through the soft green silk hangings and after surveying the pretty room for an instant made a dive for the window seat. "Oh, you window seat!" she laughed with a fine disregard for dignity.
Grace laughed with her, and queer little Mary Reynolds smiled in sheer sympathy with Emma's irresistible drollery.
"I choose this green window seat for my boon companion," declared Emma, curling her wiry length cosily upon it, "and may I be ever faithful to my vows. I expect to have difficulty in protecting my claim, for I predict this will be the most popular spot in the house. May I put up a sign, Grace, 'This claim is staked by Emma Dean, no others need apply'?"
"You may stake it, but I won't guarantee that it will stay staked," replied Grace.
"Oh, yes, it will," argued Emma confidently, bouncing up and down on the soft springy cushions. "The freshmen of Harlowe House will be so impressed with my height, dignity and general appearance that they will defer to me as a matter of course. One imperious look, like this, over my glasses, and the world will be mine." She peered over her glasses at Grace in a ludicrous fashion which was far more likely to convulse, rather than impress, the prospective freshmen.
Even the solemn stranger giggled outright, then looked as though she had been caught red-handed in some dreadful crime.
"I'd like to recite English in one of your classes, Emma," smiled Grace.
"Now there is just where you are wrong," retorted Emma. "I shan't have a single amusing feature in my daily round of recitations. I shall be as grim as grim can be and a regular slave driver as far as lessons are concerned. Those freshmen will wish they'd never met me." Emma wagged her head threateningly.