White's cards be made in the shape of little apples, one half
colored red, the other half green, and her name written diagonally
across the surface of the apple.

Marjorie hailed the idea with delight. "May I buy the water-color paper
for the apples to-morrow, Captain?"

"Yes," replied Mrs. Dean. "You ought to begin them at once. What is
Constance going to wear? She hasn't been here for a long time. Poor
child, I suppose her family keep her busy. Why not ask her to dinner
some night this week, Marjorie?"

Marjorie flushed hotly. Her mother, who was busily engaged with an
intricate bit of embroidery, did not notice the added color in her
daughter's face.

"Constance is in New York visiting her aunt," returned Marjorie. "She
has been there for a long time. Charlie is with her. I don't know when
they will be home."

Something in her daughter's tone caused Mrs. Dean to glance quickly up
from her work. Marjorie was staring out of the window with unseeing
eyes.

"Constance has hurt Marjorie's feelings by not writing to her," was
Mrs. Dean's thought. Aloud she said: "Did you know before Constance went
to New York that she intended going?"

"No; she didn't tell me."

Marjorie volunteered no further information, and Mrs. Dean refrained
from asking questions. She thought she understood her daughter's
reticence. Marjorie naturally felt that Constance was neglectful and a
little ungrateful, but would not say so.

"I wish I could tell mother all about it," ruminated Marjorie, as she
went slowly upstairs to replace the Grimms'. "I can't bear to do it. I
suppose I shall some day, but it seems too dreadful to say, 'Mother,
Constance is a thief. She stole my butterfly pin. That's why she doesn't
come here any more.' It's like a disagreeable dream, and I wish I could
wake up some day to find that it's all been a dreadful mistake."

But light is sure to follow darkness, and the loyal little lieutenant's
awakening was nearer at hand than she could foresee.

CHAPTER XXIII

THE AWAKENING

It was wilful, changeable April's last night, and, being in a tender
reminiscent mood, she dispensed her balmiest airs for the benefit of the
distinguished company who filled to overflowing the gymnasium of Sanford
High School, prepared to dance her last hours away. For the heroes and
heroines of fairy-tale renown had apparently left the books that had
held them captive for so long, and, jubilant in their unaccustomed
freedom, prom