She was giggling at the low-voiced remarks of Leonard. The quartet had been spending the early October afternoon riding in the country.
When Harold and Peggy had passed on, the Freshman remarked to his companion, "I didn't know you were acquainted with Grace Beach, Peggy."
She replied pertly, "Oh, everybody in Tate knows Grace."
"You don't like her then?"
"I never talk about other girls, Harold. This town is still too small to gossip in safety. Grace is all right. She just doesn't strike my fancy, that's all."
"Yes, she's all right—I guess," said Harold uncertainly. "I wonder what Chester Trask's kid brother sees in that Delphine though. She's an awful 'dumb dora.'"
Peggy smiled. Harold was picking up the Tate slang fast. She asked, for a reason Harold at the time did not fathom, "The Trasks have a lot of money, haven't they? Chester and Leonard are the sons of Trask, the big steel man, aren't they?"
"Yes," Harold replied. "But what—"
"Well, the Beaches and this Delphine haven't a dime," said Peggy shortly. And in a few minutes bid him good-by at the entrance to the Freshman Commons.
