It was almost six o'clock in the afternoon, and the darkness of early January had settled down upon the landscape. A wet, discouraging snow, which made the streets a slush-covered menace to pedestrians, was falling, and Grace gave a soft sigh of satisfaction as she stepped into the cheery, well-lighted hall. Knowing that she was quite likely to find Emma in her room she hurried up the stairs. Her hand was on the door knob when she heard what sounded suspiciously like a sob. Grace flung open the door and rushed into her room, her face alive with concern. What could possibly have happened to make jolly, self-reliant Emma Dean cry? She exclaimed in quick surprise, however, for, other than herself, the room held no occupant. "I'm sure I heard some one crying," she murmured. She listened intently. A moment later the same doleful sound was again borne to her ears. Walking quickly into the bathroom she stood by the door that opened into Evelyn Ward's room.
"It comes from Miss Ward's room," was her second surmisal. "I wonder what I ought to do. She is so easily offended that, if I go to her, she may resent my call and think me meddlesome and interfering." Grace continued to listen uneasily to the unmistakable sounds of grief that came from the next room.
"Something serious has certainly happened. I can't stand it to hear her cry so. I'll take the risk of being misunderstood," she decided with a grim little smile.
Stepping out of her room into the hall she knocked softly on Evelyn's door, receiving no answer. Her second and rather more emphatic knock elicited a faint, "Who is there?"
"Miss Harlowe," answered Grace. "May I come in for a moment, Miss Ward?"
She heard Evelyn moving about the room for a moment, then the door was opened slowly, and with apparent reluctance on the part of the pretty freshman, who had evidently dried her tears for the time being.
"How do you do, Miss Harlowe?" she said in a queer, strained voice. "I did not know that you had returned from your vacation." She did not offer her hand to Grace. In her blue eyes lay a look of positive fear.
"I came in not more than ten minutes ago," returned Grace, stepping into the room and closing the door after her. Then with her usual directness she said, "Miss Ward, I heard you crying. I came to see if I could help you."
The look of fear in Evelyn's eyes deepened. She continued to regard Grace intently, as though trying to discover whether there could be any other motive for her visit. In spite of the effort she was making to be natural her face expressed absolute consternation.
"It—was—nothing," she stammered, at last. "I am not feeling very well."