that so perfectly matched Mary Raymond's sunny curls. Yet she
noted that the blue eyes met hers openly and frankly, and that there was
an undeniable air of sincerity and truth about Constance which caused
one instinctively to trust her.

To the formerly friendless girl who had never before been invited to the
home of a Sanford girl, the evening passed like a dream. Under the
genial atmosphere of the Dean household, her reserve melted and before
dinner was over she had forgotten all about herself and was laughing
merrily with Marjorie over Mr. Dean's nonsense. After dinner Mrs. Dean
played on the piano and Constance, who knew how to dance was initiated
into the mysteries of several new steps which were favorites of the
Franklin girls, and later the two girls spent a happy hour in Marjorie's
room with her books, of which she had a large collection.

"Oh, dear," sighed Constance, as she glanced at the clock on the
chiffonier. "It is ten o'clock. I must go."

"Wait a few minutes," requested Marjorie. "I have something to show you,
but I must see mother for a minute first. Please excuse me. I'll be back
directly."

"Mother," Marjorie hurried into the living-room. "Have you thought of a
way? Constance is going home, and it's now or never."

"Suppose you give it to her by yourself," suggested her mother. "I am
afraid my presence will embarrass her and then she will surely refuse."

Marjorie stood eyeing her mother uncertainly. Then she laughed. "I know
the easiest way in the world," she declared, and was gone.

When she entered the room Constance was kneeling interestedly before the
book-shelves. "You have the 'Jungle Books,' haven't you? Don't you love
them?"

"Yes," laughed Marjorie. "Mary and I read them together. I always called
myself 'Bagheera' the black panther, and she always called herself
'Mogli, the man-cub.' We used to write notes to each other sometimes in
the language of the jungle."

"How funny," smiled Constance. Her gaze intent upon the books, she did
not notice that Marjorie had stepped to her closet, returning to her bed
with a cloud of pink over her arm. Next she opened a big box and laid a
cloud of blue beside the one of pink. "Constance, come here a minute,"
she said.

Constance sprang up obediently. Her glance fell upon the bed and she
gave a little startled, admiring "Oh!"

Marjorie linked her arm in that of her friend and drew her up to the
bed. "This gown," she pointed to the pink one, "