WHAT PATIENCE OVERHEARD "Oh, Overton, our voices clear Ring out in reverent praise to-day, To thee, our Mother, loved and dear Who guides us on our college way," sang Grace softly as she walked about her room putting away the various articles of wearing apparel she had taken from her trunk.

The Christmas vacation had come and gone like a glad, happy dream, and with a hundred pleasant memories of home to sweeten the days that lay between her and Easter, Grace cheerfully unpacked her belongings, humming as she worked the song of Overton that she loved best.
A light knock on the door, accompanied by, "May I come in ?" hushed the song on Grace's lips.

"I should say so," she called, recognizing Patience Eliot's voice.

"Enter and give an account of yourself.

I've hardly seen you since I came back." "I have had more or less unpacking to do, too," said Patience, with a comprehensive glance about the room.