of the
sophomores, including Ellen Seymour, heatedly denied the rumor, and a
number of freshmen also took up the cudgels in her behalf. Jerry, Irma
and Constance stood firmly by her, and, although the poor little
lieutenant was far more hurt over the allegation than she would show,
she kept a brave face to the front and tried to ignore the ill-natured
thrusts launched chiefly by Muriel and Mignon.

But in the midst of this uncomfortable season Marjorie made a wonderful
discovery. It was quite by chance that she made it, and it concerned
Constance Stevens. Although the Mary girl had apparently grown very fond
of Marjorie and had almost entirely dropped her strange cloak of
reserve, she had never invited the girl who had so graciously befriended
her to her home.

From the words of vehement protest which Constance had spoken on that
day when Marjorie had followed her and protested that they become
friends, she had partly understood the other girl's position in regard
to her family, and had tactfully avoided the subject ever afterward. She
had talked the matter over with her captain, and they had decided to
respect Constance's reticence and keep religiously away from anything
bordering on the discussion of her family.

It was on a crisp November afternoon, several days before Thanksgiving,
that Marjorie made her discovery. As she walked into the living-room,
her books on her arm, her cheeks pink from the sharp, frosty air, her
mother hung up the telephone with: "Marjorie, do you think Constance
would like to go with us to the theatre to-night? Your father has just
telephoned me that he has four tickets."

"She'd love it. I know she would. I'll hurry straight down to her house
and ask her." Marjorie dropped her books on the table with a joyful
thump.

"Very well; but I wish you would wait until I finish my letter, then you
can post it on your way there."

"Did Nora bake chocolate cake to-day?" asked Marjorie irrelevantly.

"Yes."

There was a rush of light feet from the room. Three minutes later
Marjorie returned, a huge piece of chocolate layer cake in her hand.

"It's the best ever," she declared between bites.

By the time the cake was eaten the letter was ready.

"Hurry, dear," her mother called after her; "we shall have an early
dinner."

It did not recur to Marjorie until within sight of the house where
Constance lived that she was an uninvited guest. What a queer-looking
little house it was! Long ago i