Grace Harlowe’s Sophomore Year at High School by Josephine Chase

“Anne, you will never learn to do a side vault that way. Let me show you,” exclaimed Grace Harlowe.

The gymnasium was full of High School girls, and a very busy and interesting picture they made, running, leaping, vaulting, passing the medicine ball and practising on the rings.

In one corner a class was in progress, the physical culture instructor calling out her orders like an officer on parade.

The four girl chums had grown somewhat taller than when last seen. A rich summer-vacation tan had browned their faces and Nora O’Malley’s tip-tilted Irish nose was dotted with freckles. All four were dressed in gymnasium suits of dark blue and across the front of each blouse in letters of sky-blue were the initials “O.H.S.S.” which stood for “Oakdale High School Sophomore.” They were rather proud of these initials, perhaps because the lettering was still too recent to have lost its novelty.