is guilty, by telling the true circumstances concerning your pin, you
are doing the school justice. A person who deliberately appropriates
that which does not belong to him or to her is a menace to the community
in which he or she lives, and should be removed from it. Our school is
our community. It must be kept free from those who are a detriment to
it," concluded Miss Archer, her mouth settling into lines of obstinate
firmness.

The distress in Marjorie's face deepened. "I am sorry, Miss Archer, but
I can tell you nothing. Please don't think me stubborn and obstinate. I
can't help it. I--I have nothing to say."

"I have explained to you the necessity for perfect frankness on your
part, and you have refused to comply with my demand," reproved the
principal. "I am deeply disappointed in you, Miss Dean. I looked for
better things from you. The affair will have to stand as it is until
Miss Stevens returns. I am sorry that you will not assist me in clearing
it up." She made a gesture of dismissal. "That is all, I believe, this
morning. You may return to the study hall."

Without a word Marjorie rose and left the room, her eyes full of tears,
her proud spirit hurt to the quick. The icy reproach in the principal's
words was, indeed, hard to bear, and all for a girl who had proved
herself unworthy of friendship. Yet she could not help feeling a swift
pang of pity for Constance. How dreadful it would be for her when she
returned to Sanford and to school!

But Constance seemed in no hurry to return. Midyear, with its burden of
examinations, its feverish hopes and fears, came and went. Then followed
a three days' vacation, and the new term began with a great readjusting
of programs and classes. Marjorie passed her state examinations in
American history and physiology, and decided upon physical geography and
English history in their places, as both were term studies. She entered
upon her second term's work with little enthusiasm, however. The
disagreeable, almost tragic events following the holidays had left a
shadow on her freshman days, that had promised so much.

February came, smiled deceitfully, froze vindictively, threatened a
little, then thawed and froze again, as his next-door neighbor, March,
whisked resentfully down upon him, hurried him out of the running for a
whole year, and blustered about it for two weeks afterward. The swiftly
passing days, however, brought no word or sign concerning the absent
Constance, a