so stern. "Captain, we are----"

"Not another word. I said, 'later.'"

Jerry and Marjorie turned to the ballroom. Mary however, with a scornful
glance at Mrs. Dean, faced about and went upstairs. She had been imbued
with a naughty resolve and she determined to proceed at once to carry it
out.

The dancing went on for a little, but the disagreeable happening had
dampened the ardor of the guests and they began leaving for home soon
afterward.

It was midnight when the last sound of the footsteps of the departing
youngsters echoed down the walk. Side by side, Marjorie and her mother
watched them go, then the latter slipped her arm through that of her
daughter and said, "Now, Marjorie, we will get to the bottom of this
affair. Come with me to Mary's room."

They reached it to find the door closed. Mrs. Dean knocked upon one of
the panels.

"What do you want?" inquired an angry voice.

"We wish to come in, Mary," was Mrs. Dean's even response.

There was a muttered exclamation, a hurry of light feet, then the door
was flung open.

"You can come in for all I care," was Mary's rude greeting. "You might
as well know now that I'm not going to live here after to-night. I'm
going to Mignon's house to live." Piles of clothing scattered about and
a significantly yawning trunk bore out the assertion.

Mrs. Dean knew that the time for action had come. Walking over to the
girl, she placed deliberate hands on her shoulders. "Listen to me, Mary
Raymond," she said decisively. "You are _not_ going one step out of this
house without my consent. Your father intrusted you to my care, and I
shall endeavor to carry out his wishes. You know as well as I that he
would be displeased and sorry over your behavior. I had intended to talk
matters over with you and Marjorie now, but you are in no mood for
reason. Therefore we will allow this affair to rest until to-morrow.
But, once and for all, unless your father sanctions your removal in a
letter to me, you will stay here, under my roof. Come, Marjorie."

With a sorrowful glance toward the tense, angry little figure, Marjorie
followed her mother from the room.

CHAPTER XVI

THE PENALTY

Marjorie awoke the next morning with a dull ache in her heart. It was as
though she had been the victim of a bad dream. She stared gloomily about
her, struggling to recollect the cause of her depression. Then
remembrance rushed over her like a wave. No, she had not dreamed. Last
night had be