be on her guard. She had now passed out of her former
chum's friendship of her own free will. She could not go privately to
Muriel or Susan or the other members of the team. No, indeed! Yet,
somehow, she must convey a message of warning.

Seized with a sudden impulse to carry out her resolve, she picked up a
pencil and began to scrawl on a bit of paper in a curious, back-handed
fashion, quite different from her neat Spencerian hand. Over and over
she practiced this hand on a loosened sheet from her note-book. At
length she rose and, going to her chiffonier, took from the top drawer a
leather writing case. Tumbling its contents hastily over, she selected a
sheet of pale gray paper. There was a single envelope to match. Long it
had lain among her stationery, the last of a kind she had formerly used.
She was sure Marjorie had never seen it, so if it fell into her hands
she could not trace it to her. Once more she practiced the back-handed
scrawl. Then, with an energy born of the remorse which was to serve as a
continual penance for her folly, she wrote:

"TO THE SOPHOMORE TEAM:

"Be on your guard when you play to-morrow. If you are not very
careful you may be sorry. Beware of 'tricks.'

"ONE WHO KNOWS."

Folding the warning, Mary slipped it into its envelope. But now the
question again confronted her, "To whom shall I send it?" After a
moment's frowning thought she decided upon Harriet Delaney as the
recipient. But dared she trust it to the mail service? Suppose it were
not delivered until afternoon? Then it would be too late. The Delaneys
lived only two blocks further up the street. It was not yet ten o'clock.
Mrs. Dean had gone to a lecture. Marjorie was in her room. If she met
General she would merely state that she was going to post a letter. That
would be entirely true. She would run all the way there and back. Once
she had reached Harriet's house she must take her chance of being
discovered.

Drawing on her long blue coat, Mary crept noiselessly down the stairs.
General was not in sight. The living room was in darkness. Only the hall
lights burned. It took but an instant to softly open the door. Mary sped
down the walk and on her errand of honor like a frightened fawn. Fortune
favored her. No eye marked her cautious ascent of the Delaney's steps.
She breathed a faint sigh of relief as she slipped the envelope into the
letter slot in the middle of the front door. Then she turned and dashed