s broken.

"Why, Betty Wales," she laughed, "cheer up. You've made the speech of
the day, and three of your best friends are waiting to be congratulated.
Tell Christy how pleased you are that she's toastmistress and then come
down town with me."

Once out of the crowded room Eleanor grew silent, and Betty, too hurt
and angry to know what to offer in the way of comfort, left her to her
own thoughts. They had crossed the campus and were half way down the
hill when Eleanor spoke.

"Betty," she said, "please don't care so. If you are going to feel this
way, I don't think I can bear it."

Betty stared at her in astonishment. "Why Eleanor, it's you that I care
about. I can't bear to have you treated so."

Eleanor smiled sadly. "And can't you see--no, of course you can't, for
you never did a mean or dishonorable thing in your life. If you had, you
would know that the worst part of the disgrace, is that you have to
share it with your friends. I don't mind for myself, because what Miss
Harrison said is true."

"No, it's not," cried Betty hotly. "Not another girl in the whole class
feels so."

"That," Eleanor went on, "is only because they are kind enough to be
willing to forget. But to drag you in, and dear old Madeline, and all
'The Merry Hearts'! You'll be sorry you ever took me in."

"Nonsense!" cried Betty positively. "Everybody knows that you've
changed--everybody, that is, except that hateful Miss Harrison, and some
day perhaps she'll see it."

That evening Betty explained to Helen, who had never heard a word of the
"Argus" matter, why Eleanor had not been made an editor.

"Do you think there were any others to-day who didn't want her?" she
asked anxiously.

Helen hesitated. "Ye-es," she admitted finally. "I think that Miss
Harrison has some friends who feel as she does. I heard them whispering
together. And one girl spoke to me. But I am sure they were about the
only ones. Most of the girls feel dreadfully about it."

"Of course no one who didn't would say anything to me," sighed Betty.
"Oh, Helen, I am so disappointed."

"Well," returned Helen judicially, "it can't be helped now, and in a way
it may be a good thing. Eleanor will feel now that everybody who counts
for much in the class understands, and perhaps there will be something
else to elect her for, before the year is out."

Betty shook her head. "No, it's the last chance. She wouldn't take
anything after this, and anyway no one would dare to prop