ome back until the last minute."

"I'm a working girl, you know," reminded Marcia. "Doctor Bernard was
dreadfully disappointed because I wouldn't give up high school and keep
on being his secretary. But I couldn't do that."

"Of course you couldn't," agreed Marjorie, "especially now that you are
a senior."

Mary Raymond had drawn back a little while Marjorie and Marcia Arnold,
Miss Archer's once disagreeable secretary, but now a changed girl
through the influence of Marjorie, exchanged greetings. Marjorie turned
and drew her chum forward, introducing her to Marcia, who bowed and
extended her hand in friendly fashion.

"Is Miss Archer busy, Marcia?" asked Marjorie, after she had explained
that Mary was to become a pupil of Sanford High School.

"Wait a moment, I'll see." Marcia went into the inner office, returning
almost instantly with, "Go right in. She is anxious to see you,
Marjorie."

Miss Archer's affectionate welcome of Marjorie Dean brought a blush of
sheer pleasure to the girl's cheeks. Her heart thrilled with joy at the
thought that there was now no veil of misunderstanding between her and
her beloved principal.

"And so this is Mary Raymond." Miss Archer took the newcomer's hand in
both her own. "We are glad to welcome you into our school, my dear. Your
principal at Franklin High School has already written me of you. How
long have you been in Sanford?"

Mary answered rather shyly, explaining her situation, while Marjorie
looked on with affectionate eyes. She was anxious that Miss Archer
should learn to know and love Mary.

"I will put you in Marjorie's hands," declared Miss Archer, after a few
moments' pleasant conversation. "She will take you to the study hall and
see that you are made to feel at home. We wish our girls to look upon
their school as their second home, considering they spend so much of
their time here. Please tell your mother, Marjorie," she added, as the
two girls turned to leave the room, "that I shall try to call on her
this week."

"How do you like Miss Archer? Isn't she splendid?" were the quick
questions Marjorie put, as they retraced their steps down the long
corridor.

"I know I'm going to love her," returned Mary fervently. "I hope I'll be
happy here, Marjorie." There was a wistful note in her voice that caused
Marjorie to glance sharply at her friend. Mary's charming face was set
in unusually sober lines.

"Poor Mary," was her reflection. "She's thinking of her mother.