she was simply judged as what her
schoolfellows thought her--a queer-tempered crank who refused to join in
the general fun of the place, and in consequence was left out of most
things.

Irene, pleasant and hail-fellow-well-met with all comers, had at once
noticed this attitude of the others towards Lorna. At the drawing of
lots in the sorority she had somehow realized that everybody was
extremely thankful to have escaped having her unpopular chum as a buddy.
Chance remarks and slight allusions, hardly noticed at the time, but
remembered later, had confirmed this.

"They're not exactly unkind, but they're down on that girl," she had
concluded. "I haven't made up my mind yet whether I altogether like her,
but I'm going to be decent to her all the same."

As the very first who had treated her on a real equality of girlhood
Irene had been placed on a pedestal in Lorna's empty heart. The
separation between the two added to the loneliness of the latter's brief
half-term holiday. She had never missed school so much before, or hated
her surroundings so entirely. The long week-end dragged itself slowly
away. Sunday was wet and they stayed all day in the little sitting-room,
Mr. Carson reading as usual, and Lorna trying to amuse herself with
Italian magazines and fidgeting as much as she dared. Towards evening
the rain cleared a little and her father went out, refusing, however, to
allow her to accompany him. At the end of an hour he returned and flung
himself heavily into his chair. He was in a state such as she had never
witnessed before, violently excited, with glaring eyes and twitching
hands.

"Lorna!" he exclaimed in quick panting accents, "I have met my enemy.
The man who ruined me! Yes, the man who deliberately blackened and
ruined me!"

Lorna turned to him half frightened.

"What is it, Father?" she asked. "Have you an enemy? You've never let me
know before. Oh, I wish you'd tell me! I'm fifteen now, and surely old
enough to hear. It's so horrible to feel there's something you're always
keeping from me."

"I suppose you'll find out some time, so I may as well tell you myself,"
replied Mr. Carson grimly. "I'm a wronged, ruined man, Lorna, suffering
for the sin of another who goes scotfree. The world judged me guilty of
embezzlement, but before God I am innocent! I never touched a penny of
the money. Do you believe me innocent? Surely my own daughter won't turn
against me?"

"No, no, Father! Indeed I believe you