t follow me. Promise me you won't."

"I never make rash promises," answered David, smiling. "Be merciful to
the candidates." Lifting his cap, the young man hurried off and turned
the corner without looking back.

"I wonder what I had better do," Grace mused. "I know perfectly well
that David Nesbit won't go away. He will wait until he thinks I am far
enough up the street and then he'll follow me. As soon as he finds out
where I am going he'll rush back and hunt up Hippy Wingate and Reddy
Brooks. Goodness knows what the three of them will plan."

She decided to turn down a side street, go back one block and into the
public library. She could easily leave the library by the side entrance
and cut across Putnam Square. That would mislead David, although no
doubt he would find them before the evening was over.

Grace lost no time in putting her plan into action. As she hurried into
the library she looked back, but saw no sign of David. When she reached
Putnam Square she almost ran along the broad asphalt walk. It was
fifteen minutes past seven by the city hall clock, and she did not wish
to be late. The girls had agreed to be there by half past seven. She was
almost across the square when her ear caught the sound of a low sob.
Grace glanced quickly about. The square was practically deserted, but
under one of the great trees, curled up on a bench, was a girl. Without
an instant's hesitation Grace made for the bench. She touched the girl
on the shoulder and said, "You seem to be in distress. Can I do anything
to help you?"

Then Grace gave a little surprised exclamation. The face turned toward
her was that of Mabel Allison, the freshman prize girl. The glare from
the neighboring light revealed her tear-swollen eyes and quivering lips.
She gave Grace one long, agonized look, then dropped her head on her arm
and sobbed harder than ever.

"Why, Miss Allison, don't cry so," soothed Grace. "Tell me what your
trouble is. Perhaps I can be of some service to you. I've wanted to know
you ever since you won the freshman prize last June, and so has Anne
Pierson. She won the prize the year before, you know."

The girl nodded, but she could not sufficiently control herself to
speak.

Grace stood silently waiting until the other should find her voice. A
moment more and Mabel Allison began to speak in a plaintive little voice
that went straight to Grace's heart:

"You are Grace Harlowe. I believe every girl in Oakdale High School