ne little fling,
despite her good resolutions.

The guests continued to arrive in twos and threes and Marjorie was kept
busy greeting them. True to her prediction, it was after eight o'clock
when Mignon appeared. She wore an imported gown of peachblow satin that
must have been a considerable item of expense to her doting father. Her
elfish face glowed with suppressed excitement and her black eyes roved
about, with lightning glances, born of a curiosity to inspect every
detail of her unfamiliar surroundings.

"I am glad you came," greeted Marjorie graciously, and presented Mignon
to her mother.

The French girl acknowledged the introduction, then turning to Mary
began an eager, low-toned conversation, apparently forgetting her
hostess.

Mrs. Dean betrayed no sign of what went on in her mind, but her thoughts
on the subject of Mignon were not flattering. Ill-bred, she mentally
styled her, and decided that she would look into the matter of her
growing friendship with Mary.

The dancing had already begun when, piloted by Mary, who had apparently
forgotten that she was of the receiving party, the two girls strolled
into the impromptu ballroom. Mary was immediately claimed as a partner
by Lawrence Armitage, who tried to console himself with the thought
that, at least, she looked like Constance. Mignon's face darkened as
they danced off. Lawrie had merely bowed to her. But he had asked Mary
to dance. That was because she resembled that odious Stevens girl. Her
resentment against Constance blazed forth afresh. She hoped Constance
would never return to Sanford.

Thanks to a long lecture which Jerry had read to her brother Hal, Mignon
was not neglected. Although none of the Weston High boys really liked
her, she was asked to dance almost every number. Later in the evening
Lawrence Armitage asked her for a one-step, and she vainly imagined
that, after all, she had made an impression on him. Radiant with triumph
over her social success, Mignon saw herself firmly entrenched in the
leadership she dreamed would be hers. But her triumph was to be
short-lived.

After supper, which was served at two long tables in the dining-room,
the guests returned to their dancing with the tireless ardor of first
youth. Chancing to be without a partner, Mignon slipped into a
palm-screened nook under the stairs for a chat with Mary, who had
followed her about all evening, more with a view of hurting Marjorie
than from an excess of devotion. F