"Of course I didn't mean to," apologized Elfreda, "You know that, don't you, Miriam? I can't help walking in my sleep. I've done it ever since I was a little girl."
"I forgive you, but you must promise not to dream," laughed Miriam. "Otherwise I am likely to find myself out the window or being dropped gently downstairs while you dream gaily on, regardless of what happens to your long-suffering roommate."
As they entered the dining room several girls already seated at the table welcomed them with joyful salutations. It was at least ten minutes before any one settled down to breakfast. Grace observed with secret relief that Miss Atkins was not at the table. The three freshmen who were to fill the last available places in Wayne Hall had not yet arrived. During breakfast a ceaseless stream of merry chatter flowed on. Everyone wished to tell her neighbor about her vacation, of what she intended to take during the fall term, or of how impossible it was to get hold of her trunk. Then there was the usual amount of wondering as to why the four freshmen hadn't appeared.
"One of them is here—that is, she's in the house," remarked Elfreda laconically.
"She is!" exclaimed Emma Dean, opening her eyes. "I didn't see her yesterday."
"You were consoling your homesick cousin, so how could you know what went on here?" reminded Grace. It had been decided that nothing should be said regarding the events of the previous day.
"So I was," said Emma. "She made me think of Longfellow's 'Rainy Day.' She looked so 'dark and dreary.'"
"What a unique comparison," chirped a wide-awake sophomore. "That will be so appropriate for the freshman grind book."
"It is our turn this year," exulted Elfreda. "I shall be on the lookout for good material, too. I know one freshman who will be a candidate for honors."
"Who?" inquired Emma Dean curiously.