Meanwhile little Helen Adams went blissfully home to the Belden. Several times on the way she pinched herself to make sure she was awake. Up in her own room in the quiet of the big empty house she sat down to think it all over. She had been very lonely during her freshman year--but that didn't matter now. And the basket-ball song and the verses and the quaint little essay on apple-trees that the "Argus" had printed had meant long hours of hard work and discouraged waiting for the right words to come. But the struggles and discouragements didn't matter now either, in the face of this glorious, wholly unlooked-for success.