r somehow. It was--yes, it was just like Nita Reese's lost
pin--the one that belonged to her great grandmother and that had
disappeared just before the Belden House play--one of the first thefts
to be laid to the account of the college robber. Only, instead of a pin
this was a pendant, fastened to the chain by a tiny gold ring. That was
the only difference, for--yes, even the one little pearl that Nita had
lost of the circle was missing here.

Betty didn't hear Georgia's answer to her question. She turned back to
the stage, which swayed sickeningly as she watched it. At last the song
ended, and while she clapped mechanically with the rest she gave herself
a little shake, and told herself sternly that she was being a goose,
that it was absurd, preposterous, even wicked--this thought that had
flashed into her head. Nita's pin wasn't the only one of its kind; there
might be hundreds just like it. Georgia's great grandmother probably had
had one too.

Betty talked very fast on the way up to the Belden. She was thankful
that Tom and his friend were going back to New Haven that night and
would have time for only the hastiest of good-byes.

"See you later, Miss Ames," Ashley Dwight called back as he ran down the
steps after Tom.

"He's asked me to the prom, Betty. Think of that!" explained Georgia,
her eyes shining.

"How--nice," said Betty faintly. "I'm awfully tired, aren't you?"

"Tired!" repeated Georgia gaily. "Not a bit. I should like to begin all
over again this minute. I'm hot though. We walked pretty fast up the
hill." She threw back her coat and unwound the scarf that was twisted
over her hair and around her throat. It caught on the amethyst pendant
and Georgia pulled it away carefully, while Betty watched in fascinated
silence, trying to make up her mind to speak. She might never have a
good chance again. Ordinarily Georgia wore no jewelry,--not a pin or a
ring. She had certainly never worn this pendant before at Harding. It
would be so easy and so sensible to say something about it now and set
her uncomfortable thoughts at rest.

Betty wet her lips nervously, made an heroic effort, and began.

"What a lovely chain that is, Georgia." She hoped her voice sounded more
natural to Georgia than it did to herself. "Is it a family heirloom?"

Georgia put up her hand absently, and felt of the chain. "Oh,
that,--yes, it is. It really belongs to mother, but she let me bring it
here. She's awfully fond of old jewelry