es was president of a bank in this city. I
want you in moral science this afternoon."

"Thank you," said Marjorie, after a moment. "I will stay."

She returned to the dressing-room, taking a volume of Dick from the
book-case as she passed it; and sitting in a warm corner, half concealed
by somebody's shawl and somebody's cloak, she read, or thought she read,
until the bell for the short afternoon session sounded.

Moral science was especially interesting to her, but the subject this
afternoon kept her trouble fresh in her mind; it was Property, the use of
the institution of Property, the history of Property, and on what the
right of Property is founded.

A whisper from Miss Parks reached her:

"Isn't it a poky subject? All I care to know is what is mine and what
isn't, and to know what right people have to take what isn't theirs."

The hour was ended at last, and she was free. How could she ever enter
that schoolroom again? She hurried along the streets, grown older since
the morning. Home would be her sanctuary; but there was Miss Prudence!
Her face would tell the tale and Miss Prudence's eyes would ask for it.
Would it be better for Prue, for Aunt Prue, to know or not to know? Miss
Prudence had written to her once that some time she would tell her a
story about herself; but could she mean this story?

As she opened the gate she saw her blue bird with the golden crest
perched on the arm of a chair at the window watching for her.

She was at the door before Marjorie reached it, ready to spring into her
arms and to exclaim how glad she was that she had come.

"You begin to look too soon, Kitten."

"I didn't begin till one o'clock," she said convincingly.

"But I don't leave school till five minutes past two, childie."

"But I have something to tell you to-day. Something _de_-licious. Aunt
Prue has gone away with Morris. It isn't that, because I didn't want
her to go."

Marjorie followed her into the front parlor and began to unfasten her
veil.

"Morris' mother is coming home with her to-morrow to stay all winter, but
that isn't it. Do guess, Marjorie."

She was dancing all around her, clapping her hands.

"Linnet hasn't come! That isn't it!" cried Marjorie, throwing off her
cloak.

"No; it's all about me. It is going to happen to _me_."

"I can't think. You have nice things every day."

"It's this. It's nicer than anything. I am going to school with you
to-morrow! Not for all the time, but to make