ame. She had been "the girl of mystery."

"If you could only make that old lawyer tell the truth about you,
Nance!" exclaimed Jennie.

"But perhaps he _is_ telling the truth."

"Not much, he isn't."

"Why, you're as bad as Scorch O'Brien," declared Nancy, with half a
smile.

"That boy's got some brains, all right," observed Jennie, quickly. "It
does not sound reasonable that, during all these years, Mr. Gordon would
not have probed into the matter and learned something about your real
antecedents."

Nancy shook her head, slowly. "It may all be true. Maybe it is just
kind-heartedness that has kept him acting as intermediary between the
persons who furnish money for my education, and myself."

"And why does he tip you so generously?"

"Oh--er--Well, I don't know."

"Is that out of his own pocket, do you think?" asked the shrewd Jennie.

"Well----"

"Does this 'Old Gordon,' as your friend Scorch calls him, really seem
like a man given to outbursts of charity, Nance?"

"Why--why, I never saw him but once," replied Nancy.

"But did he impress you as being of a philanthropic nature?" urged her
friend.

"No-oo."

"I thought not," observed Jennie. "Just because Scorch reminded him of
your existence wasn't likely to make him send you money. I bet he
handles plenty more belonging to you that you never see."

"But see to what an expensive school he has sent me!" cried Nancy.

"Maybe he was obliged to do so. Perhaps he only does just what he is
told to do, after all. There may be somebody behind Mr. Gordon, who is
watching both him and you."

"My goodness! You make it all more mysterious than it was before,"
sighed Nancy. "Just the same, if these girls learn all about me they'll
spread it around that I'm just a foundling, and that nobody knows
anything about me. It is going to be dreadfully hard."

"Now, you pluck up your spirit, Nance Nelson!" commanded Jennie Bruce.
"Don't be so milk-and-watery. You're just as good as they are."

"I don't know. At least, my folks may not have been as good as _their_
folks."

"Well, I'd never let 'em guess it," cried Jennie. "You're scared before
you are hurt, Nance; that's what is the matter with you."

CHAPTER XVI

IT COMES TO A HEAD

Jennie Bruce was just as full of good humor as she could be. She may
have lacked reverence for teachers, precedent, the dignity of the
seniors, and honored custom; but nobody with a normal mind could really
be angry with her