It was a Saturday night in late October, and Madeline Ayres was giving "The Merry Hearts" their long promised and much anticipated mushroom party. Madeline's room was really no larger than Betty's, but much experience of living in trunks and tiny apartments had given her a really marvelous skill in the art of making the small appear the larger space. Her wash-stand was hidden in the closet. There also was the steamer-trunk, which, with a bed box that slid neatly under the couch, took the place of a bulky chiffonier. The litter of small bric-a-brac,--of dance and dinner cards and other miscellaneous souvenirs of good times or journeys,--that fill the room of the average college girl to overflowing, had no place at all in Madeline's scheme of life. There were a few pictures--several small water color landscapes, gifts of her father's artist friends, a black and white reproduction of a famous painter's conception of the college girl, with a dainty pen-and-ink sketch done by the great man himself on the wide gold mat, and a little Japanese print of Fuji-yama in a curiously carved sandal-wood frame. The couch cover she had brought from Bagdad herself, and the one tall green vase bore the imprint of a famous French potter. As Betty Wales said once with a sigh, it was easy enough for Madeline to leave out the "footless little things," when she had such lovely big ones.