"I am afraid Mrs. Elwood is not, and never will be, an admirer of the Anarchist," said Grace. "Seriously speaking, she is half inclined to ask her to leave Wayne Hall. She believes she will have further trouble with her. Perhaps we should have waited. We might have tried, later, to gain possession of our room," added Grace doubtfully.
Anne shook her head. "We would be waiting still, if we had attempted to settle matters without Mrs. Elwood."
"But it seems too bad to begin one's sophomore year so unpleasantly. All summer I had been planning how helpful I would try to be to entering freshmen, and this is the way my splendid visions have materialized." Grace eyed Anne rather dejectedly.
"Never mind," soothed Anne. "By to-morrow this little unpleasantness will have completely blown over. Perhaps the Anarchist," Anne smiled over the title Elfreda had bestowed upon the disturbing freshman, "will discover that she can make friends more quickly by being pleasant. She may reform over night. Stranger things have happened."
"But nothing of that sort will happen in her case," declared Grace. "You said just a moment ago if it hadn't been for Mrs. Elwood we would still be out in the hall clamoring for a room, didn't you!"
"I did," smiled Anne.
"That was equivalent to accusing the Anarchist of stubbornness, wasn't it?"
"It was."
"Very well. If she is half as stubborn as I believe her to be, she won't be different to-night, to-morrow or for a long time afterward."