first dance with Mary. Mr. Stevens had
already handed the old violinist the music for the dance and placed his
own score in position upon the piano. The slow, fascinating strains of
the one step rang out and a great scurrying for partners began.

Marjorie found herself dancing off with Hal Macy, while Lawrence
Armitage swung Constance into the rapidly growing circle of dancers.
Irma Linton and the Crane danced together, while Jerry Macy, who danced
extremely well for a stout girl, was claimed by Arthur Standish, one of
her brother's classmates.

Once the hop had fairly begun, dance followed dance in rapid succession.
Much to Mary's secret satisfaction there were no gaps in her programme.
As it was, there were no wall flowers. An even number of boys and girls
had been invited and every one had put in an appearance. At eleven
o'clock a dainty repast, best calculated to suit the appetites of hungry
school girls and boys, was served at small tables on the side veranda,
which extended almost the length of the house.

It was not until after supper, when the dancing was again at its
height, that Marjorie and Constance found time for a few words together.

The two girls had slipped away to Constance's pretty blue and white
bedroom to repair a torn frill of Marjorie's gown.

"Isn't it splendid that we can have a minute to ourselves?" laughed
Constance. "I'm glad you happened to need repairing. I hope Mary is
having a good time. As long as it's her party I'm anxious that she
should enjoy herself."

"Of course she's having a good time. How could she help it?" returned
Marjorie staunchly. "All the boys have been perfectly lovely to her and
so have the girls. I knew everyone would like her. You and Mary and I
will have lots of fun going about together this winter."

Constance smiled an answer to Marjorie's joyous prediction. Then her
pretty face sobered. "Marjorie," she said, then paused.

Marjorie glanced up from the flounce she was setting to rights.
Something in Constance's tone commanded her attention. "What is it,
Connie?"

"Have you ever said anything to Mary about you--and me--and things last
year?"

"Why, no. I wouldn't think of doing so unless I asked you if I might.
I----"

"Please don't, then," interrupted Constance. "I had rather she didn't
know. It is all past, and, as long as so few persons know about it,
don't you think it would be better to let it rest?"

Marjorie bent her head over her work to concea