The summer dragged on. Alison had looked forward to it--and beyond it--with such eager pleasure; but the thought that she was not to go back seemed to take all the zest from life. Letters came from the girls--from Evelyn in the mountains, from Polly at the seaside, from Joan and Katherine in Europe--all telling of the good times they were having, and looking forward to their reunion at Briarwood in September. And she would not be there. Trying not to show her disappointment too much, not to distress her father and mother, was as far as Alison could get. She could not look forward; there seemed nothing to look forward to. And to look back to the happy days of last winter was more than she could bear.