ean curiously.

"Because she'll be so glad to know, and also because I think it's no
more than fair to all of us. You did act very queerly that afternoon,
Jean."

"Oh, did I?" said Jean oddly. "You have a queer idea of fairness. You
won't work for me when I've put you on a committee for that express
purpose; but no matter how disagreeable I am to you about it, you won't
take a good chance to pay up, and you won't let Eleanor take hers."

"Let Eleanor take hers?" repeated Betty wonderingly.

"Yes, her chance to pay up her score. She owes me a long one. You know a
good many of the items. Why shouldn't she pay me back now that she has a
good chance? You haven't forgotten Mary Brooks's rumor, have you?
Eleanor could start one about this condition business without half
trying."

"Well, she won't," Betty assured her promptly. "She wouldn't think of
mentioning such a thing to anybody. But as long as we both
misunderstood, I'm going to tell her that it's all right. Good-bye,
Jean, and please excuse me for being so hasty."

"Certainly," said Jean, and Betty wondered, as she ran down-stairs,
whether she had only imagined that Jean's voice shook.

The next afternoon Mr. Masters and the committee, deciding that Jean's
Bassanio was possibly just a shade more attractive than Mary Horton's,
gave her the part. Kate Denise was Portia, and everybody exclaimed over
the suitability of having the lovers played by such a devoted pair of
friends. As for Betty, she breathed a sigh of relief that it was all
settled at last. Jean had won the part strictly on her merits, and she
fully understood Betty's construction of a committee-woman's duty to the
play. Nevertheless Betty felt that, in spite of all their recent
contests and differences of opinion, they came nearer to being friends
than at any time since their freshman year, and she wasn't sorry that
she had gone more than halfway in bringing about this happy result.

Meanwhile the date of the Glee Club concert was fast approaching.
Georgia Ames came in one afternoon to consult Betty about the important
matter of dress.

"I suppose that, as long as we're going to sit in a box, I ought to wear
an evening gown," she said.

"Why, yes," agreed Betty, "if you can as well as not. It's a very dressy
occasion."

"Oh, I can," said Georgia sadly. "I've got one all beautifully spick and
span, because I hate it so. I never feel at home in anything but a
shirt-waist. Beside my neck looks awful