"Miss Ward said her sister was very pretty," reflected Grace, then she looked a trifle dismayed. She had received absolutely no other description of the girl she was to meet. She did not know whether Evelyn Ward was short or tall, stout or thin, dark or fair. "I'll simply have to use my eyes and guess," was her mental comment, as she walked briskly along the station platform just as the train whizzed down the track. Her alert eyes scanned the nearest car steps where the porter was helping a crotchety old man to the platform. Behind him, came a stout middle-aged woman and two children. Grace scanned the next set of steps. Then, far up the platform she saw a tall, slender, blue-clad figure walking toward her at a leisurely pace. The girl carried a small handbag and a suit case. When she came directly opposite Grace she paused, then, after a deliberate survey, walked forward with outstretched hand. "Aren't you Miss Harlowe?" she asked sweetly. "If you are, I am Evelyn Ward."
CHAPTER XI
EVELYN WARD, FRESHMAN
Grace found herself looking into one of the most perfect faces she had ever seen. Evelyn Ward was a blonde of the purest type. Her thick golden hair lay in shining waves under her small, smart blue hat. Her eyes were deeply, darkly blue with purple depths, while her skin had the sheen and texture of pale pink rose leaves. Her small, straight nose, softly-curved red mouth and delicately-arched dark eyebrows added to the tender beauty of her face. To Grace she came as a revelation, and, so far as she could remember, she had never seen any other blonde girl who approached this one in loveliness.
"How do you do, Miss Ward? I am glad to know you," she said, offering her hand. She noticed that the slender hand that Evelyn put forth to meet hers was very soft and white. It had evidently done no hard work and was in sharp contrast to the rough, work-worn hands of her sister.
"I'm sure I am pleased to know you, Miss Harlowe, and very thankful to you for arranging for my coming to Overton. I would have cried my eyes out with disappointment if Ida had come home with bad news," returned the pretty girl in a plaintive tone which impressed Grace with a curiously uncomfortable feeling that this attractive young woman would have done nothing of the sort. There was that indefinable something about her that contradicted, flatly, the idea of tears.
"Your sister was an eloquent pleader, Miss Ward. I would have made an even greater effort than was necessary to place you, if only to please her. I was greatly impressed with her unselfishness and nobility of character," Grace made reply.
An expression of amusement showed itself on Evelyn Ward's face. "Ida is a perfect old dear," she agreed lightly. "She takes life too seriously, though. She worries over every little thing. Still her very seriousness makes a good impression. She has ever so many friends; a great many more than I." She shrugged her shoulders, as though to convey the fact that the latter state of affairs did not trouble her.
"As your luggage is not heavy, we might walk to Harlowe House," suggested Grace. "This glorious fall weather is ideal for walking. Let me take your suit case."