ignorant of Mary's
secret resentment of her new friend, Marjorie had retired that night
inwardly rejoicing in both girls and planning all sorts of good times
that they three might have together.

Several days later Constance had entertained them at luncheon at "Gray
Gables," the beautiful, old-fashioned house Miss Allison had purchased,
on the outskirts of Sanford. Mary had been secretly impressed with its
luxury and had instantly made friends with little Charlie. The quaint
child had gravely informed her that she looked like Connie and
immediately taken her into his confidence regarding his aspirations
toward some day playing in "a big band." He had also obligingly favored
her with a solo of marvelous shrieks and squawks on his much tortured
"fiddle." Mary loved children, and this, perhaps, went far toward
stilling the jealousy, which, so far, only faintly stirring, bade fair
to one day burst forth into bitter words.

"I'll see you in school on Monday," Marjorie had called over her
shoulder, as she and Mary had taken their departure from Constance's
home that afternoon. But now Monday had come and there was no sign of
the girl Marjorie held so dear in the study hall.

"Connie had better hurry. It's five minutes to nine. She'll be late."
Marjorie's gaze traveled anxiously toward the door. An unmistakable
frown puckered Mary's brows, but Marjorie did not see it.

"Oh, Marjorie Dean, here you are at last. We've been waiting for you."
Susan Atwell left a group of girls with which she had been hob-nobbing
and hurried down the aisle. "Come over here, you dear thing. We've been
looking our eyes out for you." She stopped short and stared hard at
Mary. "Why, I thought----" she began.

"You thought it was Connie, didn't you?" laughed Marjorie. She
introduced Mary to Susan.

"The girls over there thought you were Constance Stevens, too," smiled
Susan, showing her dimples. "You see, Marjorie and Connie are
inseparable, so, of course, we naturally mistook you for her. I never
saw two girls look so much alike. If we have a fancy dress party this
year you two can surely go as the Siamese Twins. Wouldn't that be
great?"

Mary smiled perfunctorily. She had her own views in the matter, and
they did not in the least coincide with Susan's.

A moment later they were hemmed in by an enthusiastic bevy of girls,
each one trying to make herself heard above the others. Marjorie was
besieged on all sides with eager inquiries. The girl