Nearly all the "literary" juniors, together with a good many like Betty Wales who were not in the least literary, took Miss Raymond's theme course. The bulletin boards were just outside the door of her recitation room, so that part of the hall was always noisy and crowded between classes; and at the close of the hour on this particular Wednesday morning there seemed to be even more confusion there than usual. But the class paid very little heed to what was going on outside. Miss Raymond had a way of bringing up interesting points that the recitation period was much too short to dispose of, and they sauntered out in this usual leisurely fashion, arguing about the merits of the theme that had just been read--a spirited essay of Eleanor Watson's. Helen Adams happened to be the last one in the line, and at Miss Raymond's desk she stopped to ask a question.