t isn't--well--we shall at least have given them their chance."

The players lingered in the Hardings' living room to discuss the coming
contest, go over their signals and prepare themselves as effectually as
possible for the fray. It was almost noon when Marjorie sped up the
stairs to her room, there to put into execution the search she had
decided to make. Mary's letters to her, tied with a bit of blue ribbon,
reposed in a pretty lacquered box designed especially to hold them.
Marjorie untied the ribbon and fingered them with a sigh of regret for
the happy past. Most of them were written on white paper, a few were on
pale blue, Mary's color. Almost at the bottom of the box was one gray
envelope. The searcher drew a quick breath as she separated it from its
fellows. Drawing the envelope from her blouse, she compared the two.
They were identical. The mysterious warning was no longer a mystery
to her.

CHAPTER XIX

A BOLD STAND FOR HONOR

Thrilled with the discovery she had just made, Marjorie's first impulse
was to seek admittance to the room so long denied her and confront Mary
with the knowledge of her good deed. Remembering her General's
injunction, "Let her alone," she refrained from yielding to that
impulse. Her pride, too, asserted itself. It was not her place to make
advances, all too likely to be rebuffed. No, she must keep her secret
until time had done its perfect work. Reconciliation lay in Mary's
hands, not hers. She decided, however, that the girls must never know
who had been the author of the warning. So far as she was concerned, it
must remain a mystery to them.

"Where is Mary?" she inquired of her mother, as they sat down to
luncheon a little later. Mary's place at the table was vacant.

"Oh, she was invited to luncheon at her friend Mignon's home," returned
Mrs. Dean, frowning slightly. "I suppose she is hoping that Mignon's
team will win the game this afternoon."

"I suppose so," returned Marjorie absently. Her mind was still on her
discovery. Should she tell Captain about it? Perhaps it would be best.
Briefly she acquainted her mother with what she had so recently found
out.

"I am not greatly surprised," was her mother's quiet comment. "Mary is
too good a girl at heart to persist for long in this ridiculous stand
she has taken. I am glad you said nothing of it to her. She must clear
her own path of the briars she has sown. When she does, she will have
learned a much-needed lesson.