gainst
Lawrence Armitage and Marjorie Dean.

Marjorie could not resist a low laugh of contemptuous scorn as she
viewed the stormy-eyed girl whose unscrupulous plan had failed. The
contempt in her pretty face deepened as her quick eyes took in the
details of Mignon's costume. The French girl's indiscreet haste to make
ready had convicted her. Marjorie had already learned from Mary all that
had occurred. It needed this one proof to complete the evidence.
Lawrence Armitage was regarding Mignon with perplexed brow. "That is not
the costume you wore last night, Miss La Salle," he said with cold
abruptness. Scrutinizing her closely, amazement began to dawn on his
clear-cut features. "When did you----"

With a low cry of mingled humiliation and fury, Mignon turned and ran
down the stairs, her slender body trembling with the anger of a defeat
born of the failure of her plan and her own betraying haste. Gaining the
shelter of her dressing room, she gave herself up to a paroxysm of rage
that ended in a burst of hysterical sobs.

The end of the first act brought a troop of hurrying, laughing girls
downstairs. Instead of the alert, self-possessed Mignon who had swept
proudly into the dressing room that night, those who shared the room
with her found a convulsive weeper lying face downward on the floor.

"What's the matter?" was the concerted cry.

A good-natured senior took Mignon gently by the shoulders. "Get up,
Mignon," she commanded. "If you don't stop crying, you won't be able to
go on when your cue comes, let alone trying to sing." Mignon's first
entrance took place in the second act and occurred directly after the
rise of the curtain.

The French girl half raised herself at this reminder, then sank back to
her original position with a fresh burst of racking sobs. Finding her
good-natured ministrations ineffectual, the senior left Mignon to
herself and began to change methodically to her peasant costume of the
second act, the scene of which was laid in a village and in front of the
cottage where she supposedly dwelt.

"Ten minutes," called the warning tones of the freshman who was serving
as call boy. Still Mignon refused to heed the admonitions of her
companions.

"Better call Laurie Armitage," suggested one girl. "She can't possibly
go on. Harriet Delaney will have to take her place. Mignon isn't even
dressed for her part. Where do you suppose----" The senior did not
finish her sentence. Something in the familiar