win any day."

"So would I," echoed Constance, her face darkening with the remembrance
of her own wrongs at Mignon's hands.

Marjorie was silent for a moment. She knew that Jerry's outburst rose
from pure devotion to her friends, and she could not blame Constance for
her hostile spirit. Still, was it right to allow personal grudges to
warp one's loyalty to one's class? If the record of their class read
badly at the end of their freshman year, whose fault would it be? She
had fought it all out with herself on the day she wrote her resignation,
and had wisely determined, then, not to allow it to spoil her year.

"I know how you girls feel about this," she said slowly. "I felt the
same way until after I had written my resignation. While I was writing I
kept hoping that the team would lose and be sorry they had put someone
else in my place. Then it just came to me all of a sudden that a good
soldier wouldn't be a traitor to his country even if he were reduced in
rank or had something happen unpleasant to him in his camp."

She stopped and looked embarrassed. She had forgotten that the girls
could not possibly know what she meant. She had never told any one in
Sanford High School about the pretty soldier play which she and Mary had
carried on for so long. It was one of the little intimate details of her
life which she preferred to keep to herself. Should she explain? Jerry's
impatient retort made it unnecessary.

"The only traitor I know anything about is Mignon," she flung back,
failing to grasp the significance of Marjorie's comparison.

Constance, however, had flashed a curious glance at her friend, saying
nothing. When Geraldine had nodded good-bye at her street, and the two
were alone, she asked: "What did you mean by comparing yourself to a
soldier, Marjorie?"

Marjorie smiled.

"I think I'd better tell you all about it. I've never told anyone else."

"What a splendid game," mused Constance, half to herself, when Marjorie
had finished. "Do you--would you--could I be a soldier, too, Marjorie?
It would help me. You don't know. There are so many things."

The wistful appeal touched Marjorie.

"Of course you can," she assured. "You'd better come to my house to
luncheon to-morrow. You can join the army then and go to the game with
me."

"I'm not going to the game." The look of expectancy died out of
Constance's face.

"You can't be a soldier if you balk at the first disagreeable thing that
comes along," remi