The days sped swiftly by, and spring came with her wealth of bud and bloom. During the long, balmy days Grace inwardly chafed at schoolbooks and lessons. She wanted to be out of doors. As she sat trying to write a theme for her advanced English class, one sunny afternoon during the latter part of April, she glanced frequently out the window toward the golf links that lay just beyond the High School campus. How she wished it were Saturday instead of only Wednesday. That very day she had arranged to play a game of golf with one of the senior class girls, who had made a record the previous year on the links. Grace felt rather flattered at the notice of the older girl, who was considered particularly exclusive, and rarely if ever paid any attention to the lower class girls. She had accidentally learned that Grace was an enthusiastic golfer, and therefore lost no time in asking her to play.
"I was awfully surprised when she asked me to play," confided Grace to her chums on the way home from school that afternoon.
"Oh, that's nothing," said Jessica. "She ought to feel honored to think you consented. You are really an Oakdale celebrity, you know."
"Please remember when you are basking in the light of her senior countenance that you once had friends among the sophomores," said Nora in a mournful tone.
"I consider both those remarks verging on idiotic," laughed Grace. "Don't you, Anne?"
"Certainly," replied Anne. "But let me add a word of caution. Don't allow this mark of senior caprice to turn your head. Remember you are——"
"You're worse than the others," cried Grace, "Let's change the subject."
Saturday proved a beautiful day, and with a light heart Grace started for the links with her golf bag strapped across her shoulder. The senior whose name was Ethel Post, sat waiting for her on one of the rustic benches set under a tree at one side of the starting place. She greeted Grace cordially and the two girls set to work without delay to demonstrate their prowess as golfers. The caddies, two small boys of Oakdale, who could be hired at the links by anyone desiring their services, carried the girls' clubs and hunted lost balls with alacrity.
Miss Post found that Grace was a foeman worthy of her steel. The young girl's arm was steady, and she delivered her strokes with decision. Grace came out two holes ahead.
Miss Post was delighted. "I hope you will golf with me often, Miss Harlowe," she said cordially. "It is so seldom one finds a really good player."