en hinted
such thing she'd be so angry. I believe she'd turn Indian giver and take
back her gift to Overton."

"Oh, no, she wouldn't do quite that, Emma." Heartsick though she was,
Grace smiled faintly. "She would be angry, though. She must never know
it. It made her so happy to give Harlowe House to Overton. She would be
so hurt, for my sake, that she would never again take a particle of
pleasure in it. When Miss Wharton sends for me I shall ask her
point-blank if she really intends to try to have me removed from my
position by the Board. If she says 'yes,' I'll resign, then and there."

"Grace Harlowe, you don't mean it? You've always fought valiantly for
other girls' rights, why won't you fight for your own? The whole affair
is ridiculous and unjust. If worse comes to worst you can go before the
Board and defend yourself. The members will believe you."

Grace shook her head sadly, but positively. "I'd never do that, Emma. If
it comes to a point where I must fight to be house mother here, then I'd
much rather resign. I couldn't bear to have the story creep about the
college that I had even been criticized by the Board. I've loved my work
so dearly, and I've tried so hard to do it wisely that I'd rather give
it up and go quietly away, feeling in my heart that I have done my best,
than to fight and win at last nothing but a blotted escutcheon. You
understand how it is with me, dear old comrade."

"Grace, it breaks my heart to hear you say such things! You mustn't talk
of going away." Emma sprang from the chair into which she had dropped
and drew Grace into her protecting embrace. Grace's head was bowed for a
moment on Emma's shoulder.

"Don't cry, dear," soothed Emma.

"I'm not crying, Emma. See, I haven't shed a tear. I did all my crying a
while ago." Grace raised her head and regarded Emma with two dry eyes
that were wells of pain. "I have had another shock, too, since I came
home. Tom Gray has resigned his position with the Forestry Department at
Washington, and has sailed for South America.
I--never--thought--he'd--go--away. He isn't even going to write to me,
Emma, and I don't know when he will come back. Perhaps never. You know
how dangerous those South American expeditions are?"

"Poor Gracious," comforted Emma, "you have had enough sorrows for one
day. You need a little cheering up. You and I are not going to eat
dinner at Harlowe House to-night. We are going to let Louise Sampson
look after things while