She could scarcely believe this weeping, disconsolate little creature to be the smiling, self-assured Arline Thayer, who was forever receiving flowers from admiring freshmen crushes.
"Father's going to--Europe--on--important business," quavered Arline brokenly.

"He--he sails to-morrow morning and he can't possibly return before the middle of January." She raised her sad little face to Grace's sympathetic one, then, straightening up, she went on bravely, "We had so many lovely Christmas plans." "Come home with me, Arline," begged Grace.

"I'd love to have you." Arline shook her blonde head, at the same time slipping her hand into Grace's.

"I thought of that, too," she returned softly.

"I was going to ask you if I might go home with you for Christmas.