ld be splendid if we could
do our lessons together sometimes. My mother likes me to bring my school
friends home."

"So does mine," returned Marjorie, cordially. "She says home is the
place for me to entertain my schoolmates. I hope you will come to see me
soon. It's your turn first, you know. Oh, please pardon me a moment, I
must speak to this girl!" The cause of this sudden exclamation was a
young woman in a well-worn blue suit who was coming across the street
directly ahead of them.

"Oh, Constance!" hailed Marjorie, "I have been looking for you. Stop a
minute!" Marjorie stood waiting for her friend with eager face and
outstretched hand. By this time the four other girls had come abreast of
the trio and had passed them, Irma Linton being the only one of them who
bowed to Constance. Jerry stood beside Marjorie for an instant, then
walked on and overtook her chums.

"Please don't stop," begged Constance, her face expressing the liveliest
worry. "Really, you mustn't try to be friends with me. I wish to take
back my part of our compact. You've been chosen to play on the team, and
those girls seem to like you. I can't stand in your way, and my
friendship won't be worth anything to you, so just let's forget all we
said the other day."

Marjorie stared hard at the other girl, the pathetic droop of whose lips
looked for all the world like Mary's when things went wrong. "You don't
mean that, and I won't give you up," she said with fine stubbornness. "I
haven't time to talk about it now. I must catch up with those girls.
Wait for me at our locker to-morrow noon, please, _please_."

With a hasty squeeze of Constance's hand, Marjorie raced on up the
street to overtake her companions. They were so busily engaged in
discussing her, however, that they did not hear her approach, and
consequently did not lower their voices.

"I will not speak to her; I will not play with her on the team!" she
heard Mignon La Salle sputter angrily.

"We certainly don't care to bother with her if she's going to take up
with all sorts of low people." This loftily from Muriel, who was afraid
to cross the French girl.

"My mother told me never to speak to any of those crazy Stevens
persons," added Susan Atwell, with a toss of her curly head. "I don't
care so very much for this Dean girl, either."

"Oh, you make me tired, the whole lot of you," cried Jerry, with angry
contempt. "Marjorie Dean is nicer than all of you put together, and if
she li