rom their position they could see all
that went on about them, yet be quite hidden from the unobservant. The
unobservant happened to be Marjorie and Jerry Macy, who had come from
the ballroom for a confidential talk and taken up their station directly
in front of the alcove. Save for the two girls behind the palms, the
hall was deserted.

"Well, I guess Mignon's having a good time," declared Jerry Macy in her
brisk, loud tones. "She ought to. I nearly talked myself hoarse to Hal
before he'd promise to see that the boys asked her to dance. This reform
business is no joke."

"Lower your voice, Jerry," warned Marjorie. "Someone might hear you."

Mary Raymond made a sudden movement to rise. Stubborn she might be, but
she was not so dishonorable as to listen to a conversation not intended
for her ears. Mignon pulled her back with sudden savage strength. She
laid her finger to her lips, her black eyes gleaming with anger.

"Oh, there's no one around. Say, Marjorie, do you think it's really
worth while to go out of our way to reform Mignon? Look at her to-night.
You'd think she had conquered the universe. She was all smiles when
Laurie Armitage asked her to dance. He can't bear her, he told me so
last Hallowe'en, after she made all that fuss about her old bracelet. If
we hadn't banded ourselves together to find that better self which you
are so sure she's carrying around with her, I'd say call it off and
forget it. None of us really likes her. You know that, even if you won't
say so. She is----"

The waltz time ended in a soft chord and the dancers began trooping
through the doorway to the big punch-bowl of lemonade in one corner of
the hall. They were just in time to see a lithe figure in pink spring
out, catlike, from behind the palm-screened alcove and hear a furious
voice cry out, "How dare you insult a guest by talking about her, the
moment her back is turned?"

CHAPTER XV

AN IRATE GUEST

Jerry Macy and Marjorie Dean whirled about at the sound of that wrathful
voice. Mignon La Salle confronted them, her eyes flashing, her fingers
closing and unclosing in nervous rage, looking for all the world like a
young tigress.

"Oh, for goodness' sake, some one lead her away!" muttered the Crane to
Irma Linton. "I told Hal to-day that, with Mignon aboard the good old
party ship, we'd be sure to have fireworks. Real dynamite, too, and no
mistake. I wonder what's upset her sweet, retiring disposition?" His
boyish f