ve Mary.
You can't help yourself, and she'll love you. She can't do anything
else."

"I hope she will like me," said Constance a trifle soberly. "I know I
shall like her, because she is your friend, Marjorie."

"You'll like her for yourself, Connie," predicted Marjorie loyally, and
secure in the belief that neither of these two girls, whose friendship
she held above rubies, could fail her, Marjorie Dean dreamed of a
kingdom of fellowship into which the three were fated to enter only
after scaling the steep and difficult walls of misunderstanding.

CHAPTER II

THE SHADOW

"Listen, Connie! Do you hear that train whistling? I'm sure it's Mary's
train."

Marjorie Dean peered anxiously up the track in the direction of the
sound. In the distance her alert eyes spied the smoke of the approaching
train before it rounded the bend and appeared in full view, and her
heart beat high with the thought that the longer-for moment had come at
last.

Since her return to Sanford, five days before, Marjorie had been in a
quiver of affectionate impatience. How slowly the days dragged! She
read and re-read Mary's latest letter, stating that she and her father
would arrive at Sanford on Wednesday on the 4.30 train and her
impatience grew. It was not alone that she desired to see Mary. There
was the "mysterious mission" to be considered. What girl does not love a
mystery? And Marjorie was no exception. At that moment, however, as she
waited for her childhood's friend, all thought of the mystery was swept
aside in the longing to see Mary again.

As the train rumbled into the station and after many groans and shudders
stopped with a last protesting creak of wheels, Marjorie's anxious gaze
traveled up and down its length. Suddenly, at the far end, she spied a
tall, familiar figure descending the car steps. Close behind him
followed a slender girl in blue. With a cluck of joy and a "There she
is!" Marjorie fairly raced up the station platform. Constance followed,
but proceeded more slowly. To Marjorie belonged the right to the first
rapturous moments with her chum. In her girlish soul lurked no trace of
jealousy. She understood that with Marjorie, Mary must always be first,
and she was filled with an unselfish happiness for the pleasure of the
girl who had braved all things for her and would forever mean all that
was best and highest to her.

"Mary!" Marjorie exclaimed, her clear voice trembling with emotion.

"Oh, Marjorie,