mphasize her words.

"I believe you," assured Patience with mock solemnity, "and salute you
as a disciple of truth."

Leaving her friends to exchange confidences, Grace ran lightly up the
stairs and knocked on Mary Reynolds' door. Receiving no answer, she
knocked again.

"She must be asleep," thought Grace. Then she turned the knob and
entered the room. Surely enough the tired stranger lay on her couch bed,
tranquil and slumber-wrapped. Sleep had smoothed away the lines of care
and, in repose, her face looked soft and childish.

"Miss Reynolds."

The girl sat up with a little, startled cry. "Oh," she breathed, in
relief. "I was so frightened. I forgot where I was."

"Miss Dean, a friend of ours and I are going to the station to meet
another friend. We wish you to go with us," invited Grace. "That is,
unless you prefer to stay here. You will be all alone in the house."

An expression of alarm showed itself in the girl's eyes. "I'd rather go
with you, if you are sure I won't be in the way."

"Not in the least. We shall start in a few moments." With a cheerful
smile that elicited a faint, answering one from the other girl, Grace
left the room. She was back in an instant with something blue thrown
over her arm. "Here is a little coat I took out of my trunk especially
for you. It is cool enough for a coat to-night. This won't be too long
for you. It's only three-quarter length on me."

"I--I--" stammered Mary, but Grace was gone.

Mary could not help thrilling a little with pure pleasure at sight of
herself in the pretty blue serge coat. "I look just like them," she
murmured. "I'm so glad I came. I won't go back either, and no one shall
make me." She smoothed and patted her curly hair, then putting on her
shabby hat went slowly down stairs.

Her momentary awe of Patience vanished when she discovered that, in
spite of her dignified bearing, this tall, fair young woman was as full
of fun as the droll Emma Dean.

The quartette started for the station with Patience and Emma in the
lead. Grace walked with Mary, talking brightly of Overton to her
absorbed listener. She had just begun to tell Mary of Kathleen West, her
clever work as a newspaper woman and of how her play had won the honor
pin, when they arrived at the station.

"Wait here while I see if the train is on time," directed Grace.

The three young women strolled slowly along the platform, pausing at one
end of it.

"The train's on time," called Grace a