"Of course!
Why didn't we think of that?" And Priscilla turned to the list of special students. "No; she isn't here."
"Let me look"; and Patty ran her eyes down the column. "You've mistaken the name," she remarked, handing the book back with a shrug.
Priscilla produced the registration-list, and triumphantly exhibited an unmistakable Kate Ferris.
"They forgot to put her in the catalogue."
"I never knew them to make such a mistake before," said the president, dubiously. "I don't believe we'd better put her in the roll-book till we find out who she is."
"Then you'll hurt her feelings," said Georgie. "Freshmen are terribly sensitive about being slighted."
"Oh, very well; it doesn't matter." And Kate Ferris was accordingly enrolled in the club records.
Several weeks later Priscilla was engaged in laboriously turning the minutes of the last meeting into grammatical German, and as she closed the dictionary and grammar with a sigh of relief, she remarked to Patty:
"Do you know, it's very queer about that Kate Ferris.
She hasn't paid her dues, and, as far as I can make out, she hasn't attended a single meeting.
Wouldn't you take her name off the roll?
I don't believe she's in college any more."
"You might as well," said Patty, and she listlessly watched Priscilla as she scratched out the name with a penknife.
Patty never made the mistake of over-acting.
The next morning, as Priscilla came in from a class, she found a note on her door-block, written in the perpendicular characters of Kate Ferris.
It ran:
Dear Miss Pond: I came to pay my German Club dues, and as you are not in, I have left the money on the bookcase.
Am sorry to have missed so many meetings, but have not been able to attend classes lately.
Kate Ferris.
Priscilla exhibited the note to the president as a tangible proof that Kate Ferris still existed, and reinscribed the name in the roll-book.
A few weeks later she found a second note on her door-block:
Dear Miss Pond: As I am very busy with my class work, I find that I have not time to attend the German Club meetings, and so have decided to resign.
I left my letter of resignation on the bookcase.
Kate Ferris.
As Priscilla scratched the name out of the roll-book again she remarked to Patty: "I am glad this Kate Ferris has left the club at last.
She has caused me more trouble than all the rest of the members put together."
The next morning a third note appeared on the block:
Dear Miss Pond: I happened to mention the fact of my having resigned from the German Club to Fraulein Scherin last night, and she said that the club would help me in my work, and advised me to stay in it.
So I shall be much obliged if you will not present my letter at the meeting after all, as I have decided to follow her advice.
Kate Ferris.
Priscilla tossed the note to Patty with a groan, and getting out the roll-book, she turned to the F's and reenrolled Kate Ferris.
Patty sympathetically watched the process over her shoulder. "The book is getting so thin in that spot," she laughed, "that Kate Ferris is actually coming through on the other side.
If she changes her mind many more times there won't be anything left."
"I'm going to ask Fraulein Scherin about her," Priscilla declared. "She's made me so much trouble that I'm curious to see what she looks like."
She did ask Fraulein Scherin, but Fraulein denied all knowledge of the girl. "I have so many freshmen," she apologized, "I cannot all of them with their queer names remember."
Priscilla inquired about Kate Ferris from the freshmen she knew, but though all of them thought that the name sounded familiar, none of them could exactly place her.
She was variously described as tall and dark and small and light, but further inquiry always proved that the girl they had in mind was some one else.
Priscilla kept hearing about the girl on all sides, but could never catch a glimpse of her.
Miss Ferris called several times on business, but Priscilla always happened to be out.
Her name was posted on the bulletin-board for having library books that were overdue.
She even wrote a paper for one of the German Club meetings (Georgie was not a facile German scholar, and it had required a whole Saturday); but owing to the fact that she was suddenly called out of town, she did not read it in person.
A month or two after Kate Ferris's advent, Priscilla had friends visiting her from New York, for whom she gave a tea in the study.
"I am going to invite Kate Ferris," she announced. "I insist upon finding out what she looks like."
"Do," said Patty. "I should like to find out myself."
The invitation was despatched, and on the next day Priscilla received a formal acceptance.
"It's strange that she should send an acceptance for a tea," she remarked as she read it, "but I'm glad to get it, anyway.
I like to feel sure that I'm to see her at last."
On the evening of the tea, after the guests had gone and the furniture had been moved back, the weary hostesses, in somewhat rumpled evening dresses (a considerable crush results when fifty are entertained in a room whose utmost capacity is fifteen), were reentertaining one or two friends on the lettuce sandwiches and cakes the obliging guests had failed to consume.
The company and the clothes having passed in review, the conversation flagged a little, and Georgie suddenly asked: