a prig and I despise her."

Mary's face flamed at the obnoxious word "duty." In a flash her mind
reviewed all that had passed since that memorable Christmas day. Her
cheeks grew hotter at the brutal truth of Mignon's words.

"If you think I care anything about her, you have made a mistake," she
retorted, stung to untruthfulness by the taunt. "I'll soon prove to you
that I don't."

"Stop running around with her and her wonderful friends and I'll believe
you," sneered Mignon.

"I will, if only to show you that I don't care," flung back the angry
girl.

"That's the way to talk," approved Mignon. She had kept but few friends
among the sophomores since that fatal practice game and she did not
intend to lose Mary from her diminished circle. Besides, she was certain
that the Deans, one and all, did not approve of Mary's friendship with
her and it accorded her supreme pleasure to annoy them.

"I'm going to give a fancy dress party two weeks from Friday night," she
went on, with an abrupt change of subject. "Nearly all the girls I'm
intending to invite are juniors and seniors. We'll have a glorious time.
I don't have to strip our living room of furniture for a place to dance.
I have a _real_ ballroom in my home. I'll send you an invitation in a
day or two."

Surely enough, three days after Mignon's announcement the invitation was
duly delivered to Mary through the mail. She read it listlessly. She was
not keen about attending the party. Marjorie merely smiled when Mary
showed her the invitation and briefly announced her intention of going.
She graciously offered the Snow White costume she had worn at the
masquerade of the previous Spring. Mary declined it coldly. She had not
forgotten Mignon's taunts. Since then she had kept strictly to herself,
steadily refusing Marjorie's polite invitations to accompany her here
and there. Earlier in the year Marjorie would have grieved in secret
over this frostiness, but Marjorie had hardened her gentle heart and now
fancied that Mary's movements were of small concern to her. And so the
wall of misunderstanding towered higher and higher.

Mrs. Dean willingly helped Mary plan a cunning little girl costume, and
when on the night of the party she entered the living room in obedience
to her Captain's call, "Come here and let us see how you look, Mary," a
lump rose in Marjorie's throat. In her short, white, embroidered frock,
with its Dutch neck and wide, blue ribbon sash, she looked prec