 CHAPTER XII. The Ways of Schoolgirls. The clang of the gong announced the end of school for the day, but some of the sophomores lingered in their locker-room. They had a very disagreeable communication to make that afternoon to one of their class, and now that the time had come, were inclined to shrink I think Miriam should break the news herself, observed Marion Barber, as long as she is to succeed Grace. Miriam isn't here, said Eva Allen. She went home early. She told me she could not bear to see anyone unhappy. She is so sensitive, you know? Eva Allen was devoted to Miriam's cause. Oh, I don't know about that, said practical Marion. She'll make a good captain, however, because she has showed more loyalty to the team than Grace has. Marion firmly believed what she said. She had never been an ardent admirer of Miriam, and had at first stubbornly refused to repudiate Grace, but Miriam had little by little instilled into her the idea of Grace's incompetency, until Marion, who thought only of the good of the team, became convinced that a change of captains was advisable. Miriam's brilliant playing in the recent game was the final touch needed, and now Marion was prepared to do what she considered was her absolute duty. Suppose we write Grace a letter, suggested one of the substitutes, as long as no one seems anxious to tell her. Hersh exclaimed Eva Allen, holding up her finger. Here come Nora and Jessica. I know they are going to make a lot of fuss when they hear the news. Suppose we go back to the classroom and write the letter. We can all sign our names to it, and then we'll be equally to blame. The conspirators, accordingly, trooped into the corridor, just as Nora and Jessica were about to enter the locker-room. What in the world is the matter now, called Jessica? You girls look as guilty as though you'd stolen a goldmine. Wait and see, said Eva, with a rather embarrassed laugh, as she hurried after the others up the stairs. You know, Jessica, I believe they're up to some hateful mischief. What did I tell you the other day? Those girls have given Grace the cold shoulder more than ever since the game. They've been following Miriam about like a lot of sheep. Grace notices it too, and it makes her unhappy. Only she's too proud to say so. Never mind, said Jessica soothingly. They'll be sorry some day. Miriam's influence won't last. Grace did perfectly right in standing by Anne, and you and I must always stand by Grace. Grace is a fine captain, and— What are you saying about me, demanded Grace herself, walking into the locker-room with Anne? Jessica blushed and was silent, but Nora said glibly, Oh, Jessica just now said that you made a fine captain. Then she went on hurriedly. I think our chances for winning the championship are better than ever, don't you? The juniors have been practicing like mad since their defeat mused Grace. They will make a hard fight next time. Ms. Thompson told me yesterday that she never saw better work in basketball than ours last Saturday. I'm so proud of my team, even though they haven't been very nice to me lately. My whole desire is for them to win the final game. I suppose a captain has about the same feeling toward her players that a mother has toward her daughters. She is willing to make any sacrifice in order to make fine girls of them. And you are a fine captain, cried Anne. I felt so proud of you the other day. You handled your team so well. Knowing how hateful they have been, it was wonderful to see you give your orders as though nothing had happened. No other girl could have done it. That is a nice compliment, Anne dear, said Grace, pleased with the words of praise from her friend, for the bitterness of her recent unpopularity had made her heart heavy. At that moment, the sophomores whom Jessica and Nora had encountered filed into the room. Each girl wore a self-conscious expression. Eva Allen carried an envelope in her hand. She was confused and nervous. Once inside the door, the girls paused and began a whispered conversation. Then Eva Allen tried to push the envelope into another girl's hand, but the girl put her hands behind her back and obstinately refused to take it. There was another whispered conference with many side glances in Grace's direction. Nora stood scowling savagely at the group. She noticed that it consisted of the basketball team and its substitutes. They were all there except Miriam. If you have any secrets, girls, remarked Grace in a hurt tone, please postpone the telling of them for a few minutes. I am going directly. She opened her locker and drew out her coat and hat, trying to hide the tears that filled her eyes. Then, Marianne Barber impatiently took the envelope from Eva and stepped forward. She had made up her mind to get the whole thing over as rapidly as she could. Grace, she said, clearing her throat. The team has—well, what is it? exclaimed Nora, irritated beyond her power of endurance. Why don't you speak out instead of stuttering in that fashion? I always did detest stuttering. Marianne has a note for you, Grace, interposed one of the substitutes, growing bolder. Marianne placed the note in Grace's hand and turned slowly away. Up to that minute, she had believed that what they were about to do was for the best, but all at once the feeling swept over her that she had done a contemptible thing. She turned as though about to take the envelope from Grace, but the latter had already opened it, and unfolding the paper began reading the contents aloud. Dear Grace, she read, After a meeting to-day of the members of the regular and substitute sophomore basketball teams, it was decided that your resignation as captain of the same be requested. We are sorry to do this, but we believe it is for the good of the team. We feel that you cannot be loyal to its interests, as long as you persist in being a friend of one of its enemies. The names of the players, with the exception of Nora's and Miriam's, were signed to this communication. After she had finished reading, Grace did perfectly still, looking searchingly into the faces of her classmates. She was trying to gain her self-control before speaking to them. She could hardly realize that her own team had dealt this cruel blow. For the first time in her life she had received a real shock. She took a long, deep breath and clenched her hands. She did not wish to break down before she had spoken what was in her mind. Nora was muttering angrily to herself. Jessica looked ready to cry, while Anne, pale and resolute, came over and stood by Grace. She felt that she had been the primary cause of the whole trouble. She had borne the girl's unjust treatment of herself in silence, but now they had visited their displeasure upon Grace, and that was not to be borne. How dared you do such a despicable thing, she cried! You are cruel and feeling, and oh so unjust! You accused me of something I would scorn to do, and not satisfied with that, visited your petty spite upon a girl who is the soul of truth and honour. You may say what you choose about me, but you shall not hurt Grace, and if you don't immediately retract what you have written, I will take measures which may prove most unpleasant to all of you. Just what Anne intended to do, she did not know, but her outburst had its effect on the conspirators, and they squirmed uneasily under the lash of her words. Perhaps they had misjudged this slender, dark-eyed girl after all, before Anne could say more, Grace spoke quietly. Sit down, all of you, she said at last, with a sweetness and dignity that was remarkable in so young a girl. I have something to say to you. It is curious, she went on, that I was just talking about our basketball team when you came into the room. I had said to Nora, Jessica, and Anne that I wanted more than anything else in the world to beat the junior team. Miss Thompson had been praising the team to me, and I said to the girls that I thought I loved it just as a mother loves her daughter. There is no sacrifice I wouldn't make to keep up the team's good work, and that is the reason why I am going to make a sacrifice now, and decline to resign. If I had been a poor captain, you would have had a right to ask for my resignation, but I haven't. I have been a good, hardworking, conscientious captain, and I have made a success of the team. None of you can deny it. If you took a new captain at this stage, it might ruin everything, and I tell you I have thought too much about it. I have set my heart on it so firmly that it would just break if we lost the deciding game. Her voice broke a little. Nora was sobbing openly. It was hard work for Grace to control her own tears. Of course, she went on clearing her throat and raising her voice to study it. It will be a sacrifice for me to keep on being your captain when you don't want me. It's no fun, I can assure you. Perhaps none of you has ever felt the hurt that comes of being turned out by people who were once fond of you. I hope you never will. I am still fond of all of you, and some day, perhaps, you will see that you have made a mistake. At any rate, I declined to resign my place. It was given to me for the year, and I won't give it up. Grace turned her back and walked to the window. She had come at last to the end of her strength. She leaned against the window-jam and wept bitterly. But the address of Mark Antony over the dead body of Caesar was not more effective than this simple schoolgirl's speech. Every girl there melted into tears of remorse and sympathy. Oh, Grace! cried Marion Barber. Won't you forgive us? We never dreamed it would hurt you so. Now that I look back upon it, I can't see how we could have asked you to do it. We did believe that Miss Pearson betrayed us. But after all, that had nothing to do with you being captain of the team. I think you have been a great deal more loyal than we have. I want to say right here, girls, that I apologize to Grace and scratch my name off the list. She took a pencil, dashing it through her signature, which was the first one on the letter. One by one, each of the other girls put a pencil-strike through her name. Then they pinned on their hats, slipped into their coats, and left the room as quickly as possible. They were all desperately ashamed, each in her secret heart wished she had never entered into the conspiracy. They had given the captaincy to Grace, and after all, they had no right to take away what they had freely given, and for no better reason than that Grace was loyal to a friend whom they distrusted. It was a cruel thing that they had done. They admitted it to each other now, and wished they had never listened to Miriam Nesbit. Speaking of Miriam, who was to tell her that she had not supplanted Grace after all as captain of the team? You are all cowards, exclaimed Marion Barber, still buoyed up by her recent emotions. I am not afraid of Miriam or anyone else, and I'll undertake to tell her. But at the last moment she determined to break the news by letter. In the meantime Miss Thompson had quietly entered the locker room where Grace and her three chums were still standing. Grace, said the principal. I was passing by, and I could not help overhearing what has been said, and while I don't care to enter into the little private quarrels of my girls, I want to tell you that you made a noble defence of your position. I am very proud of you, my child. Miss Thompson put her arms around the weeping girl and kissed her. I wish every girl in my school would make such a stand for her principles. You were right not to have resigned. Always do what your judgment tells you is right, no matter what the result is, and don't give up the captaincy. The holidays had come and gone, and the pupils of Oakdale High School had resigned themselves to a period of hard study. The dreaded mid-year examinations stared them in the face, and for the time being basketball ardour had cooled, and a surprising devotion to study had ensued. Since the day that Grace had refused to give up her captaincy, there had been considerable change in the girl's attitude towards her. She had not regained her old-time popularity, but it was evident that her schoolmates respected her for her brave decision and treated her with courtesy. They still retained a feeling of suspicion toward Anne, however, although they did not openly manifest it. Miriam Nersbit had been inwardly furious over the outcome of her plan to gain the captaincy, but she was wise enough to assume an air of indifference over her defeat. Grace's speech had made a considerable impression on the minds of even Miriam's most devoted supporters, and she knew that the slightest slip on her part would turn the tide of opinion against her. Grace was in a more cheerful frame of mind than formerly. She felt that all would come right some day. Truth crushed to earth shall rise again, she told herself, and the familiar saying proved very comforting to her. Winter had settled down on Oakdale, as only a northern winter can do. There had been snow on the ground since Thanksgiving, and sleigh rides and skating parties were in order. Grace awoke one Saturday morning in high good humour. To-days the day, she said to herself, hurrah for skating! She hurried through her breakfast, and was donning her fur cap and sweater when Anne, Jessica, and Nora, accompanied by David, Hippie, Reddy, and to her surprise and delight, Tom Gray, turned in at her gate. Oh, be joyful, oh, be gay, for there's skating on the bay, sang Hippie. Meaning pond, I suppose, laughed Grace as she opened her front door. Meaning pond, answered Hippie, only pond doesn't rhyme with gay. You might say, oh, be joyful, oh, be fond, for there's skating on the pond, suggested David. Fond of what demanded Hippie? Of the person you've asked to skate with you, replied David, looking toward Anne, who stood with a small pair of new skates tucked under her arm. I shall be initiated into all the mysteries of the world soon, she observed, smiling happily. Last year it was coasting and football, and now it's dancing and skating. When I once get these things on, David, I'll be like a bird trying its wings, I'll flop about just as helplessly. I'm awfully glad to see you, Tom, said Grace. I did not expect to see you until Easter. Oh, I couldn't keep away, laughed Tom. This is the jolliest place I know. Good reason, said Reddy. We are the real people. Stop praising yourself and listen to me, said Hippie. Our pond has frozen over in the most obliging manner. It's as smooth as glass. Let's go there to skate. There's a crowd of boys and girls on it already. The pond on the Windgate estate was really a small lake, a mile or more in circumference. While it froze over every winter, the ice was apt to be rough, and there were often dangerous places in it, air holes and thin spots where several serious accidents had occurred. Therefore, Windgate's pond was not used as much as the river for skating, but this winter the ice was as smooth and solid as if it had been frozen artificially, so the high school boys and girls could not resist the temptation to skim over its surface. Isn't it a fine sight, asked Grace, as they came in view of the skaters who were circling and gliding over the pond, some by two's and three's, others in long rows laughing and shouting, a big fire burned on the bank, rows of newcomers sat near it, fitting on their skates. Away with dull care, cried Hippie, as he circled gracefully over the ice, for, with all his weight, Hippie was considered one of the best skaters in Oakdale. Away with everything but fun finished Grace, who could think of nothing save the joy of skating, come along and don't be afraid, David and I will keep you up until you learn to use those tiny little feet of yours. Anne's small feet went almost higher than her head while Grace was speaking, and she sat flat down on the ice. No harm done, she laughed, only I didn't know it could possibly be so slippery. They pulled her up, David and Grace, and put her between them with Tom Gray on the other side of Grace as additional support, and off they flew, while Anne, keeping her feet together and holding on tightly, sailed along like a small ice boat. This will give you confidence, explained David, and later on you can learn how to use your feet. But Anne hardly heard him, so thrilled was she by the glorious sensation, as they flew by, followed by Hippie and Nora, with Reddy and Jessica, she caught glimpses of many people looking strangely unfamiliar on skates. Miriam passed, gliding gracefully over the ice with a troop of sophomores at her heels. There were many high school boys cracking the whip in long rows of eight or more, while there were some older people comfortably seated in sleigh chairs, which were pushed from behind, generally by some poor boys in Ickdale who stood on the bank waiting to be hired. Now we'll have a lesson, exclaimed David, when they had reached the starting point again, while the others lost themselves in the crowd. Anne was a good pupil, but she was soon tired and sat down on a bench near the bank. Do go and have a good skate yourself, David, she insisted. I'll rest for a while and look on. But it was far too cold to sit still. I'll give myself a lesson, she said. This is a quiet spot, all the others seem to have skated up to the other end. As she was carefully taking the strokes David had taught her, with an occasional struggle to keep her balance, she heard a great shouting behind her. The next instance someone had seized her by the hand. Keep your feet together was shouted in her ear, and she found herself going like the wind at the end of a long line of girls. They were juniors she saw at once, and it was Julia Crosby at the whip end who had seized her by the hand. Anne closed her eyes. They were going at a tremendous rate of speed. It seemed to her like a comet shooting through the air. Then suddenly the head of the comet stood still and the tail swung around it, and Anne, who represented the very tip of the tail, and who hardly reached to Julia Crosby's shoulder, felt herself carried along with such velocity that the breath left her body, her knees gave way, and she fell down in a limp little bundle. Julia Crosby instantly let go her hand, and the impetus of the rush shot her like a catapult far over the ice into the midst of a crowd of skaters. But the juniors never stopped to see what damage had been done. They quickly joined hands again and were off on another expedition almost before Anne had been picked up by David and Hippie. It's that Julia Crosby again cried David, I wish she would move to Europe. I'd gladly buy her a ticket. The town of Oakdale isn't big enough to hold her and other people. She's always trying to knock somebody off the side of the earth. Anne went home tired and bruised. She had had enough of skating for one morning. David returned to join the others, for this was not the last of the day's adventures, and Julia Crosby, before sunset, was to repent of her cruelty to Anne. In the meantime, Grace and Tom had skated up to the far end of the pond. Well, Grace said, Tom, how has the world been using you? I suppose you have been adding to your laurels as a basketball captain. Far from it, said Grace, a trifle sadly. Miriam Nesbitt is star-player at present. They skated on for some time in silence. Tom felt there was something wrong, so he tactfully changed the subject. Who is the girl doing the fancy strokes, he asked, pointing to Julia Crosby, who some distance ahead of them was giving an exhibition of her powers as a maker of figure-ates and cross-cuts. That's the junior captain, answered Grace. I hope she won't fall, because she's heavy enough to go right through the ice if she should have a hard tumble. Suppose we stop watching her, suggested Tom. I don't want to see her take a header, and people who show off on skates always do so sooner or later. They changed their course toward the middle of the pond, while Julia, who was turning and circling nearer the shore, watched them from one corner of her eye. Suddenly, Grace stopped. Julia, Julia, she cried. Ms. Crosby. What's the matter, demanded Tom? Don't you see the danger flag over there? She will skate into a hole if she keeps on. The ice houses are near here, and I suppose it's where they have been cutting ice. Hello! cried Tom, straining his lungs to reach the skater, who looked back, gave her usual tantalizing laugh, and skated on. You were getting on to thin ice screamed Grace in despair, beckoning wildly. Stop, stop! Julia Crosby was skating backwards now, facing the others. Catch me if you can, she called, and the wind carried her words to them as they flew after her. Then Grace, who had been anxiously watching the skater and not the ice, stumbled on a piece of frozen wood and fell headlong. She lay still for an instant, half-stunned by the blow, but even in that distressful moment she could hear the other girl's derisive laughter. Tom called again. You'll be drowned if you don't look where you're going. Why don't you learn to skate? was Julia's answer. Oh, Tom exclaimed Grace, leave me. I'll soon get my breath. Do go and stop that girl. The pond's awfully deep there. Ms. Crosby, Tom Gray called. Won't you wait a minute? I have something to tell you. Catch me first, she cried. She turned and began skating for dear life, bending from the waist and going like the wind. I think I'll try and catch her from the front, he said to himself. I don't propose to tumble in, too, and leave poor Grace to fish us both out. With arms swinging freely, he made for the centre of the pond. As he whizzed past the girl, he turned with a wide sweep and came to water, pointing at the same time to the white flag. But it was too late. In her effort to outstrip him, Julia slid heavily into the danger zone. There was a crash and a splash, then down she went into the icy water, followed by Tom, who had seized her arm in a fruitless effort to save her. For an instant, Tom was paralysed with the coldness of the water, still keeping a firm grip on the arm of the girl who had been responsible for his ice bath. He managed to clutch the ledge of ice made by their fall with his free hand. Take hold of the ice and try to help yourself a little, commanded Tom. Julia made a half-hearted attempt and managed to grasp the ledge, but her hold was so feeble that Tom dared not withdraw his support. He was powerless to act, and they would both drown unless help came quickly. CHAPTER XIV Grace was still where she had fallen, cooling a large red lump on her forehead by applying her handkerchief first to the ice and then to the swollen place, when she suddenly felt herself to be entirely alone in the world. Everybody has gone home to dinner, she exclaimed, as she glanced over her shoulder at the other end of the pond, now denuded of skaters. Then she shifted her position, looking for Tom and Julia. She had never dreamed when she saw her friend go whizzing across the ice, that he had not caught the reckless girl in time to warn her of her danger. In a flash, she saw the empty expanse of ice before her. She leapt to her feet, balancing herself with difficulty, for her head was still dizzy from the blow. Tom? Tom Gray, she called. Where are you? Ran for help, came the answer. In another moment she saw them clinging to a broken ledge of ice, Tom supporting Julia Crosby. As for the junior captain, she was weeping bitterly and making no attempt to help herself. Grace anxiously scanned the expanse of the ice. It was nearly a mile to the other end of the pond, and the last group of skaters had disappeared over the brow of the hill. You must think quickly, she said to herself. Her eyes took in the other shore, not a soul was there, not a dwelling of any sort, nothing but the great ice-house that stood like a lonely sentinel on the bank, yet something seemed to tell her that help lay in that direction. Once before, in a moment of danger, Grace had obeyed this same impulse and had never regretted it. Once again, she was following the instinct that might have seemed to another person anything but wise. Skating as she had never skated before, Grace Harlow reached the shore in a moment. Here, dropping to the bank, she quickly removed her skates, then ran toward the ice-house, feeling strangely unaccustomed to walking on the ground after her long morning on skates. What if I am off on a wild goose chase, she said to herself. Suppose there is no one there? She paused for an instant, and then ran on faster than before. I shall find help over there. I know I shall, she thought, as she hurried over the frozen ground and made straight for the ice-house. There was no time to be lost. Tom and Julia were liable to be sucked under and drowned while she was looking for help. Grace pushed resolutely on. In the meantime, hardly four minutes had really elapsed since the skaters had tumbled into the water. On the other side of the ice-house, she came abruptly upon a man engaged in loading a child's wagon with chips of wood. Help! cried Grace. Help! Some people have broken through the ice. Have you a rope? The man made no answer whatever. He did not even look up until Grace shook him by the shoulder. There is no time to lose, she cried. They may drown at any moment. Come! Come quickly and help me save them. The man looked at her with a strange, far away expression in his eyes. Don't you hear me? cried Grace in an agony of impatience. Are you deaf? He shook his head stupidly, touching his ears and mouth. Deaf and dumb, she exclaimed in despair. Holding up two fingers, Grace pointed toward the water. Then she made a swimming motion. Perhaps he had understood. She could not tell, but her quick eye had caught sight of a long, thin plank on the shore. Pulling off one of her mittens, she showed him a little pearl and turquoise ring her mother had given her for her birthday present, indicating that she would give it to him if he would help her. Then she seized one end of the plank and made a sign for him to take the other, but the stubborn creature began to unload the chips from the wagon. Grace ran blindly ahead, dragging the plank alone. His feeble mind did she quivered. I suppose I shall have to work this thing by myself. When she had reached the bank, Grace heard him trotting behind her with his little wagon. In another moment, there was a tug at the board. She turned and shook her fist angrily at him, but without regarding her in the least, he lifted the plank and rested it on the wagon. Then, motioning her to hold up the back end, he started on a run down the bank. The poor soul thinks he's a horse, I suppose, she said to herself, but what difference does it make if we can only get the plank to Tom and Julia? Grace soon saw, however, that the idea was not entirely idiotic. Later, she was to offer up a prayer of thanks for that same child's wagon. The deaf and dumb man was wearing heavy arctic rubbers, which kept him from slipping, while Grace, whose souls were as smooth as glass, kept her balance admirably by means of the other end of the plank. Tom and Julia Crosby had now been nearly ten minutes in the water. Twice the ice had broken under Tom's grasp, while Julia, who seemed unable to help herself, had thrown all her weight on the poor boy, while she called wildly for help and heaped Grace with reproaches for running away. If it were not for the fact that it would be the act of a coward, exclaimed Tom at last, his teeth chattering with cold, I would let go of your arm and give up the job of supporting you in this ice water, for talking about grace like that. Of course, she has gone for help. Haven't you found out long ago that she is the right sort? Well, why did she go in the wrong direction? sobbed Julia. Everybody is over on the other bank. There is nothing but an ice-house over here. You may trust her to have had some good, sensible reason, retorted Tom loyally. I don't think I can keep up much longer, exclaimed Julia, beginning to cry again. Keep on crying, replied Tom, exasperated. It will warm you, and remember that I am doing the keeping up. I don't see that you are making any special effort in that direction. Once Tom had endeavored to lift Julia out of the hole, and he believed and always insisted in telling the story afterwards that if she had been willing to help herself, it could have been accomplished. But Julia Crosby, triumphant leader of her class, and Julia Crosby, cold and wet as a result of her own recklessness, were two different beings altogether. Grace Harlow has left us to drown, she sobbed. I am so wretched, she is a selfish girl. No such thing, replied Tom vigorously. Here she comes now, bringing help as I expected. I should think you'd be ashamed of yourself. He gave a sigh of relief when he saw Grace and a strange man approaching at a quick trot, the wagon, and plank between them. His confidence in Grace had not been misplaced. He felt that they would soon be released from their perilous predicament. All right, called Grace cheerfully as she approached. Keep up a little while longer, we'll have you both out in a jiffy. Both rescuers slid the plank on the ice until one end projected over the hole. Then the man and Grace both lay flat down on the other end, and Grace called ready. Julia Crosby seized the board and pulled herself out of the water, safe now, from the breaking of thin ice at the edge. Now Tom cried Grace, but Julia's considerable weight had already weakened the wood. When Tom attempted to draw himself up, crack went the board, and a jagged piece broke off. This would not have been so serious if the ice had not given way. Then into the water with many strange guttural cries slipped the deaf and dumb man. Grace herself was wet through by the rush of water over the ice, and just saved herself by slipping backward. There was still a small portion of the plank left, and with Julia Crosby's help, Grace thought they might manage to pull the two men out. But Julia looked hardly able to help herself. She sat shivering on the bank, trying to remove her skates. Julia called Grace desperately, you must help me now or these two men will drown. Help me hold down this plank. Aroused by Grace's appeal, Julia meekly obeyed, and still shivering violently, knelt beside Grace on the plank. But it was too short. When Tom Grace seized one end of it, he nearly upset both the girls into the water. Oh, what shall we do, cried Grace in despair, when suddenly there came the thought of the little wagon. Quickly untwisting a long muffler of red silk from about her neck, Grace tied it securely in the middle, around the cross-piece of the tongue of the stout little vehicle. Then she pushed it gently until it stood on the edge of the hole. Giving one end of the muffler to Julia, Grace took the other herself. Catch hold of the tailpiece, Tom, she cried. Fortunately the ice was very rough where the girls were standing, or they would certainly have slipped and fallen. They pulled and tugged until gradually the ice in front of them, with Tom's additional weight on it, instead of breaking, began to sink. But Tom Gray was out of the hole now. Helped by the wagon, he slipped easily along the half-submerged ice, then finally rolled over with a cry of relief upon the firm's surface. In the same way, they pulled out the deaf and dumb man, who had certainly been brave and patient during the ordeal, although he had uttered the most fearful sounds. As soon as his feet touched the solid ice, he seized his wagon and made for the bank. Grace, remembering she had promised him her ring, hurried after him, but she was chilled to the bone and could not run. By the time she reached the bank, he had rounded the corner of the ice-house and was out of sight. He evidently doesn't care to be thanked, said Tom Gray, as Grace returned to where he and Julia stood waiting. We had better get home as soon as possible, or we'll all be laid up with colds. The three half-frozen young people made their way home as best they could. Their clothes said frozen stiff, making it impossible for them to hurry. Julia Crosby said not a word during the walk, but when she left them at the corner where she turned into her own street, she said huskily, Thank you both for what you did for me today. I owe my life to you. That was a whole lot for her to say, said Grace. She ought to be grateful, growled Tom. She was the cause of all this mess, pointing to his wet clothes. I believe she will be, said Grace, softly. After all, it's an ill wind that blows no one good. Grace's mother was justly horrified when Grace, in her bedraggled condition, walked into the living-room. She insisted on putting her to bed, wrapping her in blankets, and giving her hot drinks. Grace fell into a sound sleep from which she did not awaken until evening. Then she rose, dressed, and appeared at the supper table, apparently none the worse for her wetting. Meanwhile, Tom Gray had gone to his aunt's, given himself a brisk rubbing down, and changed his wet clothing for another suit he fortunately happened to have with him. Thanks to his strong constitution and vigorous health, he felt no bad effects. He then went down to the kitchen, asked the cook for a cup of hot coffee, and after hastily swallowing it, rushed off to find David, hippie, and Reddy, and tell them the news. He was filled with admiration for Grace. She is the finest, most resolute girl I ever knew, he exclaimed, as he finished his story. Hurrah for Grace Harlow, shouted Reddy. Let's go down to-night, and see if she's all right, suggested David. Before seven o'clock, the four boys were on their way to the Harlow's. They crept quietly up to the living-room window. Grace sat by the fire, reading. Grace softly, they began a popular song that was a favourite of hers. Grace's quick ears caught the sound of the music. She was out of the house like a flash, and five minutes later, the four boys were seated around the fire, going over her the day's adventure. The deaf and dumb man who helped you out is quite a character, said hippie. I know him well. He used to work for my father. He isn't half so foolish as he looks, either. As for that wagon you used as a life preserver, I am proud to say that it was once mine. It must have been made especially strong, observed Reddy. It was. Hickory and iron were the materials used, I believe. I played with it when but a toddling child continued hippie, and also smashed three before my father had this one made to order. Twas ever thus from childhood's earliest hour, he added mournfully, I always had to have things made to order. There was a shout of laughter at hippie's last remark. From infancy, hippie had been the prized fat boy of Oakdale. It's only seven o'clock, said David. I move that we hunt up the girls and have a party, that is, if Grace is willing. That will be fine, cried Grace. Hippie and Reddy were dispatched to find Nora and Jessica, while David took upon himself the pleasant task of going for Anne. Tom remained with Grace. He had a boyish admiration for this straightforward, gray-eyed girl, and made no secret of his preference for her. Inside of an hour, the sound of girls' voices outside proclaimed the fact that the boy's mission had not been in vain. The girls had been informed by their escorts of the afternoon's happenings, but Grace and Tom were obliged to tell the story all over again. I hope Julia Crosby's ice bath will have a subduing effect upon her, said Nora. I am glad, of course, that she didn't lose her life, but I am not sorry she got a good ducking. She deserved something for the way she dragged Anne into that game of crack the whip. Let's talk about something pleasant, proposed Reddy. Me, for instance, said hippie with a cheshire cat grin. I am a thing of beauty, and consequently a joy for ever. Smother him with a sofa pillow, commanded Tom. He is too conceited to live. Reddy sees the unfortunate hippie by the back of the neck, while David covered the fat youth with pillows until only his feet were visible, and the smothering process was carried on with great glee until Nora mercifully came to his rescue. The following Monday, as Grace Harlow was about to leave the school room, Julia Crosby's younger sister, one of the freshman class, handed her a note. It was from Julia, and Red as follows. Dear Grace, will you come and see me this afternoon when school is over? I have a severe cold, and I am unable to be out of bed. I have something I must say to you that cannot wait until I get back to school. Your sincere friend, Julia. Oh, dear, thought Grace. I don't want to go up there. Her mother will fall upon my neck and weep and tell me I saved Julia's life. I know her of old. She's one of the weeping kind. I suppose it's my duty to go, however. Grace's prognostication was fulfilled to the letter. Mrs. Crosby clasped her in a tumultuous embrace the moment she entered the hall. Grace finally escaped from her and was shown up to Julia's room. She looked about her with some curiosity. It was a light, airy room, daintily furnished. Julia was lying on the pretty brass bed in one corner of the room. She wore a dressing gown of pale blue eyedor down, and Grace thought she had never seen her old enemy look better. How do you do, Julia? She said, walking over to the bed and holding out her hand to the invalid. Not very well, responded Julia hoarsely. I have a bad cold and am too weak to be up. I'm sorry, said Grace. The wetting didn't hurt me in the least, but, of course, I wasn't in the water like you were. It didn't hurt Tom, either. I'm glad you are both all right, said Julia. She looked solemnly at Grace and then said, hesitatingly, Grace, I didn't deserve to be rescued the other day. I've been awfully mean to you. She buried her face in the bed-clothing and sobbed convulsively. Julia, Julia, please don't cry, said Grace. Her quick sympathy aroused by the distress of another. Did you think we would leave you to drown? You would have done the same for me. Don't you know that people never think of petty differences when real trouble arises? She laid her hand upon the head of the weeping girl. After a little, the sob ceased, and Julia sat up and wiped her eyes. Bring that chair over and sit down beside me, Grace. I want to tell you everything, she said. Last year I was perfectly horrid to you and that little Pearson girl, for no earthly reason, either. I thought it was smart to annoy you and torment you. After we had the quarrel that day in the gymnasium, I was really angry with you and determined to pay you back. You know, of course, that I purposely tripped you the day of the basketball game. I was awfully shocked when I found you had sprained your ankle, but I was too cowardly to confess that I did it. Miss Thompson would have suspended me from school. I didn't know whether you knew that I had done it until I met you that day in the corridor, and the way you looked at me made me feel miserable. Then we got hold of your signals. She paused. Grace leaned forward in her chair in an agonious suspense. Julia, she said, I don't care what you did to me, but won't you please say that Anne didn't give you those signals? Miss Pearson did not give them to me, was the quick reply. I'm so glad to hear you say it, Grace answered. I knew she was innocent, but the girls have distrusted her all year. She lost the list accidentally, you know, but they wouldn't believe that she did. Yes, I heard that she did, said Julia. The list was given to me, but I am not at liberty to tell you who gave it. It was not your Anne, although I was too mean to say so, even when I knew that she had been accused. I'll write you a statement to that effect if you want me to do so. That will clear her. Oh, Julia, will you truly? I want it more than anything else in the whole world. A statement from you will carry more weight with the girls than anything I could possibly tell them. It will convince the doubters, you know. There are sure to be some who will insist on being skeptical. Acting under Julia's direction, Grace brought a little writing case from a nearby table. Julia opened it, selected a sheet of paper, and wrote in a firm, clear hand. To the members of the sophomore class and to all those whom it may concern, the accusation made against Anne Pearson last fall regarding the betrayal of the basketball signals to the junior team is false. Our knowledge of these signals came from an entirely different source. Julia Crosby, Captain Junior Team. And now, concluded Julia, I have done something towards straightening out the mischief I made. Will you forgive me, Grace, and try to think of me as your friend?" With all my heart replied Grace, kissing her warmly, and I am so happy today. Just think, the junior and sophomore classes will be at peace at last. The two girls looked into each other's eyes and both began to laugh. After two years' war, the hatchet will be buried, said Julia, a little tremulously. Oh, Julia exclaimed Grace, hopping about. I've a perfectly splendid idea. What is it? asked Julia breathlessly. Let's have a grand blow-out and bury the hatchet with pomp and ceremony, while has speeches from both classes, and a perfectly gorgeous feed afterwards. You break the news to your class, and I'll endeavour to get minority children under control once more. I believe some of them love me a little yet, she smiled. Of course they do, said Julia stoutly. I must say I don't see why they were so hateful to you, even if Anne Pearson were under suspicion. I know I am to blame for helping the grudge along," she added remorsefully, but I am not the only one. I know you said Grace quickly. There are lots of things I'd like to say, but for certain reasons of my own I shall not say them. You understand, I think." Julia nodded. She did indeed understand, and the full beauty of Grace Harlow's nobility of spirit was revealed to her. You are the finest, squarist girl I ever knew, Grace, she said admiringly. Nonsense laughed Grace, flushing a little at the tribute paid her by the once arrogant junior captain. You don't know me at all. I have just as many faults as other girls, with a few extra ones thrown in. I have no claim to a pedestal. I hope we shall be friends for the rest of our school days and forever after. You'll be a senior next year, and I shall be a junior. It's time we put by childish quarrels and assume the high and mighty attitude of the upper classes. It is our duty to become a living example to airing freshmen. Both girls laughed merrily, then Grace rose to go. She kissed Julia goodbye and walked out of the house as though on air. Her cup of happiness was full to the brim. She carefully tucked the precious paper away in her bag and sped down the street on winged feet. The incredible had come to pass. Her old-time enemy had become her friend. She wondered if it could have ever come about by any other means. She doubted it. She had always heard that desperate cases required desperate remedies. The happenings of the past week seemed conclusive proof of the truth of the saying. Furthermore, she believed in the sincerity of Julia Crosby's repentance. It was more than skin deep. She felt that hence forward Julia would be different. First of all she had the reward of her own conscience. In being true to Anne, she had been true to herself. After school in the locker room at which all members were earnestly requested to be present. There was considerable speculation as to the object of the meeting and no one knew who had posted the notice. Grace kept her own counsel. She wished to take the class by surprise and thus make Anne's restoration to favor complete. At recess Nora and Jessica brought up the subject but found that Grace apparently wished to avoid talking about it. You'll attend, won't you Grace? asked Anne. Of course said Grace hastily. Will you excuse me girls? I have a theorem to study. She felt that if she stayed a minute longer she would tell her friends the good news and spoil her surprise. What makes Grace act so clearly today said Jessica. I believe she knows something and won't tell us. I'll make her tell it said Nora and ran after Grace. But just then the gong sounded and recess was over. As soon as school was dismissed for the day the entire sophomore class crowded into the locker room. They were curious to know what was in the wind. Every member was present and Grace felt a secret satisfaction when Miriam Nesbitt, looking rather bored, sauntered in. There was a confused murmur of voices. The girls chatted gaily to each other as they waited for someone to call the meeting to order. When Grace left the corner where she had been standing with her three friends and stood facing her classmates the talking instantly ceased. Girls she said, I suppose you wonder who called this meeting and why it was called. I wrote the notice you all read this morning. I have something to tell you which I hope you will be glad to hear. At the beginning of the school year some things happened that caused unpleasant suspicions to rest upon a member of our class. You all know who I mean. It has caused her and her friends a great deal of unhappiness and I am glad to be able at last to bring you the proof that she has been misjudged. Grace paused and looked about her. She noted that Miriam had turned very pale. Just as I suspected, thought Grace, she really did have a hand in that signal affair. Then she continued, a few days ago I had occasion to call upon the junior captain, Miss Crosby. While there she assured me that the juniors did receive our signals, but that Miss Pearson had absolutely nothing to do with the matter. I was not sure that you would care to take my word alone for this. Grace couldn't resist this one tiny thrust. So she very kindly gave me the assurance in writing signed by herself. Grace then unfolded the paper and in a clear voice read Julia's statement. There was not a sound in the room. Grace stood waiting. She had done her part. The rest lay with her classmates. Nora and Jessica had their arms around Anne, who had begun to cry quietly. The relief was so great that it had unnerved her. Then Mary and Barbara sprang to Grace's side and seized her by the hand. Listen, girls, she cried. I want to acknowledge for the second time that I am heartily ashamed of myself. We have all been nasty and suspicious toward Anne. We never gave her a chance to defend herself. We just went ahead and behaved like a lot of silly children. I am sorry for anything I have ever said about her, and I want to tell you right here that I consider Grace Harlow the ideal type of high school girl. I only wish I were half as noble and courageous. I suppose you all wonder why Grace went to see Julia Crosby. Well, I'll tell you. I found out about it from Julia's sister this morning. Oh, Marian, please don't, begged Grace. Rosie with confusion. But the girls cried in chorus. Tell us, Marian, don't mind Grace. When Marian had finished, many of the girls were in tears. They crowded around Anne and Grace, vying with each other and trying to show their good will. Then Eva Allen proposed three cheers for Grace and Anne. They were given with a will. The noise of the ovation bringing one of the teachers to the door with the severe injunction. Young ladies, please contain yourselves. There is too much noise here. The girls dispersed by twos and threes until Marian Barba and the chums were the only ones left. I have a motto, said Marian, that I shall bring here to-morrow and hang in the locker-room. If I had paid more attention to it, it would have been better for me. What is it, Marian? asked Jessica. Wait and see, replied Marian. Oh, it's a good one and appropriate too. After saying goodbye to Marian, the four chums walked on together. Are you happy, Anne dear? said Grace, slipping her hand into Anne's. Anne looked up at Grace with a smile so full of love and gratitude that Grace felt well repaid for all she had endured for friendship's sake. Everything has turned out just like the last chapter in a book, said Nora, with satisfaction. The sinner, that's Julia Crosby, has repented, and the truly good people, Anne and Grace, have triumphed and will live happily ever after. The girls laughed at Nora's remark. Now I can go on planning for our big game without being afraid that the girls will stay away from practice and do things to annoy and make it hard for me, said Grace happily. I know that we shall win. I feel so full of enthusiasm, I don't know what to do. Oh, girls, I forgot to tell you that Julia Crosby and I have a perfectly splendid plan, but I promise not to say anything to anyone about it until she comes back to school. How funny it sounds to hear you talk about having plans with Julia Crosby, said Jessica, laughing. You will make Miriam Nesbit jealous if you take Julia away from her. By the way, girls, exclaimed Nora, what became of Miriam? I saw her enter the locker room, but she wasn't there when Mary and Barbara began her speech. I know she did not remain, because I looked for her and I couldn't find her. I saw her go, said Grace, quietly. That is the only part of this story that doesn't end well. She doesn't like her and all me any better than before, and never will, I'm afraid. She influenced the girls against us after the first game, and you remember what she said at the basketball meeting, don't you, Nora? Yes, responded Nora. I do, and if she hadn't been David's sister I would have told her a few plain truths then and there. I said at the beginning of the year that I believed Miriam had a better self, said Grace thoughtfully. I still believe it, and I am not going to give her up yet. I don't envy you the task of finding it, said Jessica. I wonder what Mary and Barbara's motto is, Muse Dan. She said it would be a good one. I have no doubt of that. Mary and Barbara doesn't usually do things by halves when once she starts, said Jessica. I'm surprised that she ever allowed herself to be drawn into Miriam's net. She seems awfully sorry for it now. Oh, girls, cried Nora suddenly. I have a half a dollar. Really? said Jessica. I didn't suppose there was that much money in Oakdale. My sister gave it to me this morning. Nora went on, ignoring Jessica's remark. I am supposed to buy a new collar with it, but if you are thirsty, I am simply perishing with thirst, murmured Grace. Five minutes later the four girls were seated in the nearest drugstore, busily engaged with hot chocolate, while they congratulated Nora on having spent her money in a good cause. The sophomore smiled to themselves next morning at Mary and's motto. It hung in a prominent place in the locker room and read, An ounce of loyalty is worth a pound of cleverness. It was some days before Julia Crosby was able to return to school, but when she did put in an appearance she lost no time in taking her class in hand and bringing about a much needed reform. The part played by Grace Harlow in Julia's rescue had been related by her to various classmates who had visited her during her illness, and Grace found that the older girls were inclined to lionize her more than she cared to be. She received praise enough to have completely turned her head had she not been too sensible to allow it to do so. After holding a conference with Julia, the two girls sent out notices to their respective classes that a grand reunion of the two classes would take place on the next Saturday afternoon at one o'clock at the old omnibus house providing the weather permitted. Attacks of twenty-five cents a piece was levied on the members of both classes. Please pay your money promptly to the treasure of your class, ended the notices. If you wish to have plenty to eat, important rights and ceremonies will be observed. You will be sorry if you stay away, as an interesting program is promised. Please keep this notice a secret. The field back of the omnibus house is an ideal place for the burial, Julia told Grace. It was there that the black monks of Asia held their revel and were unmasked by the freshman. Besides, it's quiet and we shan't be disturbed. Grace agreed with her, and the two girls outlined the proceedings with many a chuckle. The junior and sophomore classes had been requested to go directly to the omnibus house. It would be great to have both classes march out there, but we should have the whole of Oakdale marching with us before we arrived at the sacred spot, observed Grace with a giggle. If we don't have a lot of freshmen to suppress, it will be surprising. I do hope the girls haven't told anyone, Julia answered. By the way, we have a hatchet at home that will be just the thing to bury. It's more like a battleaxe than anything else, and looks formidable enough to represent the feeling that the juniors and sophomores are about to bury. Now, Grace, you must prepare a speech, for we ought to have representative remarks from both classes. Then Anne Pearson must recite The Bridge of Size after I have made it over to suit the occasion. We'll have to have some pallbearers. Three girls from each class will do. Julia planned rapidly and well. Grace listened attentively. The junior captain had remarkable energy. It was easy to see why Julia had always headed her class. Julia, in turn, was equally impressed with Grace's ability. A mutual admiration society bade fair to spring up between the two, so recently at Swords Point. On Saturday the weather left nothing to be desired. It seemed like a day in late spring, although it was in reality early March. At one o'clock precisely the two classes, with the exception of one member, assembled. Julia Crosby, acting as master of ceremonies, formed the classes in two lines and marched them to the middle of the field. Here, to their complete mystification, they saw a large hole about four feet in depth had been dug. Who on earth dug that hole, and what is it for? inquired a curious sophomore. Hush! said Julia Crosby reverently. That is a grave. Be patient. Curb your rise in curiosity. Soon you shall know all. Assistant Master Harlow, will you arrange the esteemed spectators so that the ceremony may proceed? Grace stepped forward, and solemnly requested the girls to form a double line on each side of the opening. The shorter girls were placed in the front rows. The sophomores will now sing their class song, directed the master of ceremonies. When the sophomores had finished, the juniors applauded vigorously. The juniors' song was next in order, and the sophomores graciously returned the applause. I will now request the worthy junior members, Olive Craig Anne Green and Elsie Todd, to advance. Honourable Assistant Master Harlow, will you name your trusted followers? Grace named Nora, Jessica and Marion Barber, who came to her side with alacrity. During the brief space of time that we are obliged to absent ourselves, will every guest keep her roving eyes bent reverently on the grand and think about nothing. It is well to fittingly prepare for what is to come. With this, Julia marched her adherents down the field and around the corner of the omnibus house. She was followed by Grace and her band. There was a chorus of giggles from the chosen helpers that was sternly checked by Julia. Before their eyes stood a large, open, pasteboard box lined with the colours of both classes, in which reposed the Crosby Hatchet, likened to a battleaxe by Julia. Its handle was decorated with sophomore and junior ribbons, and around the head was a wreath of immortals, a disreputable-looking sheaf of wheat lay across the end of the box. There was a smothered laugh from Nora, whose quick brain had grasped the full significance of the thing. This is not an occasion for levity, reprimanded Grace sternly. Laughing will not be tolerated. Three twisted ribbon handles of sophomore colours, and three of junior ornamented either side of the box. Each girl grasped a handle. We will proceed with the ceremony, directed Julia. Lift up the box. This was easier said than done. The handles were so close together that the girls hardly had room to step. The journey was finally accomplished without any further mishap than the sliding off of the wheat sheaf. This was hastily replaced by Jessica before its fall had been marked by the eagle eye of the master of ceremonies, who marched ahead with her assistant. When the box had been carefully deposited at one side of the grave, Julia Crosby took her place beside it, and assuming a Daniel Webster attitude began her address. Honoured juniors and sophomores, we have met together today for a great and noble purpose. We are about to take a step which will forever after be recorded among the doughty deeds of Oakdale High School. It will go down in high school history as the glorious inspiration of a master mind. We are going to unfurl the banner of peace and bury the hatchet. Since the early days of our class history, war, cruel war, has raged between the August bodies represented here today. On this very field, many moons ago, the gallant sophomores advanced upon the then very fresh freshman, but retreated in wild confusion. It is therefore fitting that this should be the place chosen for the burial of all grudges, jealousies and unworthy emotions that formerly rent our breasts. Here Julia paused to take breath. The girls cheered wildly. Julia bowed right and left, her hand over her heart. When the noise had subsided, she continued. She bewailed Julia misdeeds and professed meek repentance. She dwelt upon the beauty of peace, and she begged her heroes henceforth to live with each other amicably. It was a capital address delivered in a mock serious manner that provoked mirth, and did more toward establishing general good feeling than any other method she might have tried. In closing, she said, The hatchet is the symbol of war. The wheat sheath represents our elderly grudge, but the immortals are the everlasting flowers of good will that spring from the planting of these two. We will now listen to a few remarks from the pride of the sophomore class, Assistant Master of Ceremonies Grace Harlow. Grace attempted to speak, but received an ovation that made her flush, and laughingly put her hands over her ears. When she was finally allowed to proceed, she delivered an oration as flowery as that of the Master of Ceremonies. When the cries of approbation evoked by Grace's oration had died away, it was announced that the renowned elocutionist, Miss Anne Pearson, would recite a poem appropriate to the occasion. Anne accordingly recited the Bridge of Size, done over by Julia Crosby, and beginning, Take it up gingerly, handle with care, to Zarellek of Sophomore and Junior Warfare. The intense feeling with which Anne rendered this touching effusion caused the Master of Ceremonies to sob audibly, and lean so heavily upon her assistant for support, that the dignified person almost pitched headfirst into the opening, and was saved from an ignominious tumble by one of her attendants. This was too much for the others, who, forgetting the solemnity of their office, shrieked with mirth, in which the spectators were not slow to join. I think we had better wind up the ceremony, said Julia, with great dignity. These people will soon be beyond our control. The attendants managed to straighten their faces long enough to assist in the concluding rites that were somewhat hastily performed, and the Master of Ceremonies and her assistants held an impromptu reception on the spot. Now, said Julia Crosby, we have done a good day's work for both classes. I only hope that no prying freshmen hear of this. They will be sure to come here and dig up what we have gone to such pains to bury. They have no respect for their superiors. However, you have all behaved yourselves with true high school spirit, and I wish to announce that you will find a spread awaiting you around the corner of the omnibus house. There was a general hurrah at this statement, and the guests rushed off to the spot designated. Grace had held an earnest conference with old John, and the result showed itself in the row of tables rudely constructed to fit the emergency. He it was who had dug the grave. He now sat on the steps waiting to build a fire, over which Grace had planned to make coffee for the hungry girls whose appetites had been wetted by the fresh air. The money contributed by the classes had been used to good advantage by Grace and Julia, and piles of tempting eatables gladdened the eyes of the guests. For the next half hour, feasting was in order. Juniors and sophomore's shared cups, as the supply of these were limited. At the end of that time, the last crumb of food had disappeared, and the girls stood in groups or walked about the field discussing the various features of school life. Someone proposed playing old-fashioned games, and soon, puss in the corner, pom-pom pull-away and prisoner's-goal were in full swing. This brings back once grammar school days, doesn't it? Said Nora to Grace. They were deep in a game of prisoner's-goal, and stood for a moment waiting for the enemy to move toward them. I haven't had such a good wholesale romp for ages, answered Grace, and was off like the wind to intercept Eva Allen as she endeavoured to make a wide detour of their goal. The hours slipped by on wings. The start home was made about five o'clock. The juniors and sophomores trooped back to Oakdale arm-in-arm, singing school songs, and making the welkin ring with their joyous laughter. The people of Oakdale smiled at the procession of happy girls, and wondered what particular celebration was in order. When the centre of town was reached, the party broke up with a great deal of laughing and chattering—the girls going their separate ways in the best of spirits. I've had a perfectly fine time, declared Grace, as she said goodbye to her chums, and how glad I am that we are all friends again. She quite forgot when she made that statement that Miriam Nesbitt had not honoured the reunion with her presence. One more excitement was to quicken the pulses of the sophomores before they settled down to that long last period of study between Easter holidays and vacation. The great decisive basketball game with the juniors was now to take place. Grace, in conclave with her team, had gone over her instructions for the hundredth time. They had discussed the strong points of the juniors and what were their own weak ones. Miriam Nesbitt was sullen at these meetings, but in the practice game she had played with her usual agility and skill, so the girls felt that she was far too valuable a member of the team for them to mind her humours. Everybody is coming to see us play exclaim Nora in the locker room at the recess on Friday. I don't believe the President's visit would create more excitement really, she added, with a touch of pride. Did you know, interposed then, that the upper-class girls are calling Grace and Julia Crosby, David and Jonathan. This was also an amusing piece of news at which the other girls laughed joyously. In fact, there was no such feeling of depression before this game as had affected the class when the first game was played. The sophomores were cheerful and confident, awaiting the great battle with courage in their hearts. Be here early girls, cautioned Grace as they parted after school that day. Perhaps we may get in a little practice before the people begin to come. Grace hurried through her own dinner as fast as she could on the eventful Sunday. I shall be glad when this final game is over, child, exclaimed Mrs. Harlow anxiously. I really think you have had more athletics this winter than has been good for you, what with your walking and skating, dancing, and now basketball. You'll come, won't you mother? cried Grace, seizing her hat and rushing off without listening to Mrs. Harlow's comments. We are sure to win, she called, as she waved her a goodbye kiss. There was no one in the school building when Grace got back—that is, no one except the old Janitress, who was sweeping down the corridor as usual. The other girls had not been so expeditious, and Grace found the locker room deserted. With trembling eagerness, she was slipping on her gymnasium suit and rubber-soled shoes, when she suddenly remembered that she had left her tie in the geometry classroom. She had bought a new one the day before, placed it in the back of her geometry, and walked out of the classroom, leaving book, tie, and all behind. I'll run up and get it right away before the others come, she said to herself. Running nimbly up the broad stairway, she entered the deserted classroom and hurried down the aisle to the end of the room, where she usually sat during recitation. Here it is, she murmured, taking it out of the book and tying it on. Then, sitting down at the desk, she rested her chin in her hands. The quiet of the place was soothing to her excited nerves, and since it was so early, she would rest there for a moment and think. Grace might have dreamed away five minutes when she heard the distant sound of voices below. Dear me, she exclaimed, laughing. They'll scold me for not being on time. I must hurry. So she hastened up the aisle to the door, which was shut, although she had not remembered closing it after her. She turned the knob, still smiling to herself, but the door stuck fast. It was locked. Grace was so stunned that for a moment she hardly comprehended what had happened. She sat down and tried to collect her thoughts, locked up in an upper classroom on the afternoon of the great game. She tried the one other door in the room. It also was locked. As for the great windows, they were too large for her to push up without a pole. I'll try calling, she said. They may hear me. But her calls were fruitless, and beating and knocking on the door panels seemed nothing but muffled sounds in the stillness. Oh! Oh! She cried, rushing wildly, from doors to windows and back again. What shall I do? What shall I do? In the meantime, it was growing late. The sophomore's had assembled and were confidently waiting for their captain. She's late for the first time, observed one of the girls, but will forgive her under the circumstances. Maybe she's in the gymnasium, suggested Anne, hurrying off to look for her friend. In spite of herself, she felt some misgivings, and she meant to lose no time in finding her beloved Grace. The gallery was already half full of people, Anne moved about looking for David, or someone who could help her. Just then Mrs. Harlow appeared at the door. Where is Grace, Mrs. Harlow? Anne demanded eagerly. I don't know, dear, answered Mrs. Harlow. She ate her dinner and went off in such a hurry that I hardly had time to speak to her. She told me she wanted to get back to meet the girls. Anne ran back to the locker room. Grace left home hours ago, she cried. I just felt that something had happened. Jessica opened Grace's locker. Grace must be in the building, she exclaimed. Here are her clothes. The girls began to rush about wildly, looking for their captain in the various rooms on the basement floor. In a few moments, a junior came to the door. The game will be called in ten minutes, she said. Are you ready? Yes, answered Nora calmly. Be careful, she whispered. Don't let them know yet. Anne ran again to the gymnasium. I'll get David this time, she said to herself. Something will have to be done if Grace is to be found in time. David was sitting at one side of the gallery with ready and hippy. He looked very grave when Anne whispered the news to him. The place was packed with impatient spectators. The junior team was already standing on the floor talking in low voices as they waited impatiently for their opponents to appear at the opposite end. She must be somewhere in the building, David ejaculated. That is, if she has on her gymnasium suit, have you looked upstairs yet? No, replied Anne, but we have been all through the downstairs rooms. As they ran up the steps, they heard the shrill whistle that summoned the players to their positions. Come on, cried Nora, Miriam, you will have to take Grace's place, and Eva Allen will substitute for you. It still lacked a few moments of the toss-up, the whistle having been blown sooner to hurry the diletry sophomores, who seemed determined to linger unaccountably in the little side room. But in that brief time a remarkable change had taken place in the demeanor of Miriam Nesbitt. Two brilliant spots burned on her cheeks, and her black eyes flashed and glowed with happiness. The other girls were too downcast and wretched to notice the transformation. They walked slowly into the gymnasium and stood, ill at ease and downcast at their end of the hall. A wave of gossip had spread quickly over the audience that sat waiting with breathless interest for the appearance of the tardy sophomore. What had happened? Had there been an accident? No, it was all a mistake. There they were. And tremendous applause burst forth, which died down almost as soon as it had begun. Where was Grace Harlow, the daring captain of the sophomore team, who had boasted that her team would win the game if it took their last breath to do it? There was a great craning of necks as the spectators looked in vain for the missing Grace. Hippie dropped his chin upon his breast, disconsolately. I feel limp as a rag, he groaned. Where, oh, where is our gallant captain? I'll never believe Grace deserted her post. In the meantime, poor Grace, locked in the upper classroom, had concentrated all her thoughts and mental energies on a means of making her escape in time. She sat down quietly, and folding her hands began to consider the situation. In looking back long afterwards upon this tragic hour, it seemed to her that it was the blackest moment of her life. The walls were thick. The doors heavy and massive. The ceilings high. There was no possibility of her cries being heard below. It is true she might break a window, but what good would that do? She couldn't jump down three stories into a stone court below. She went to the window and looked out. If I hung by this window, still Grace had allowed, I believe my feet would just reach the corners of the second-story window. Seizing a heavy ruler from one of the desks, she ran to the window and deliberately smashed out all the plate glass in the lower sash. Then, hoisting herself onto the sill, she looked down from what seemed to be rather a dizzy height, but nerve and determination will accomplish anything, and Grace turned her eyes upward. I shall do it, she kept saying to herself over and over. Clinging to the window sill, she gradually let herself down until her feet touched the top of the cornice underneath. Then, steadying herself, she looked down. The cornice ledge was quite broad, broad enough to kneel on, in fact. She was glad of this, for she had intended to kneel on it, whatever it's with. With infinite caution, she gradually slipped along the ledge until she was kneeling. Resting her elbows on the stone shelf, she lowered herself to the next window sill. There, she stood for a moment, looking in at the empty classroom. The door into the corridor stood open, and as she clung to the narrow ledge, her face pressed against the window. She wondered how she was going to get in. Unless I butt my head against this plate glass, she exclaimed, I really don't think I can make it. I can't kick in the glass for fear of losing my balance. Suddenly, she heard her name called. Grace, Grace, where are you? First it was David's voice, and then Anne's, and then the two together, echoing through the empty corridors and classrooms. I'm here, she answered. Help, help! Fortunately, they were passing the door at that instant, and heard her muffled cries. Here, she cried again, and they saw her at last, clinging desperately to the window ledge. I don't dare open the window, exclaimed David, thinking aloud. The slightest jar might make her lose her balance. Grace, he cried, I'll have to break out the upper sash. Lower your head as much as possible, and close your eyes. Another instant, and Grace was crouching in a shower of broken glass, which fell harmlessly on her back and the top of her head. David knocked off the jagged pieces at the lower end, and Grace climbed nimbly over the sash. There's no time for explanations now, she cried. I was mysteriously locked in. Has the game been called? David looked hurriedly at his watch. You have just a minute and a half, he exclaimed, and the three ran madly down the steps and into the gymnasium, just as the whistle blew, and the girls took their places. When Grace, covered with dust, a long red scratch across one cheek, rushed into the gymnasium, wild applause shook the walls of the building, for the honour of the sophomore class was saved. The junior team was in splendid trim, and they played with great finish and judgment, but the sight of Grace, one side of whose face was tinged with blood that had risen to the surface from the deep scratch, seemed to spur the sophomores to the most spectacular and brilliant plays. Only one girl lagged and was not in her usual trim. It was Miriam Nesbit, whose actions were dispirited and showed no enthusiasm. Her shooting was so inaccurate that a wave of criticism spread over the audience, and the members of her own class watched her with deep anxiety. When the first half ended, however, the sophomores were two points to the good. Grand little players cried hippy, expressing his joy by kicking both feet against the wooden walls as hard as he could, while he clapped his hands and roared with all his might. The gamest little team I ever saw answered ready, but David, who had resumed his seat beside them, made no reply. He rose presently and went to find his sister, who was sitting somewhat apart from the other girls in gloomy silence. What's the matter with you, sister? he asked gently. You are not playing as well as usual. I expected you especially to do some fine work today. On the contrary, you have never played worse. Miriam looked at her brother coldly. Why should I help them when they have dishonoured me? she demanded fiercely. How have they dishonoured you, Miriam? asked David. By making me last in everything, putting me at the foot, she said, stifling a sob of anger. David looked at his sister sorrowfully. He saw there was no reasoning with her in the present state of mind, yet knowing her eventful spirit, he dreaded the consequences. Miriam, he said at last, speaking slowly, Perhaps some day you will learn by experience that the people who give a square deal are the only ones who really stay at the head. They always win out, and those who are not on the level, he stopped. A sudden suspicion had come into his mind. You don't mean to say that it was you who—but he didn't finish. Instead, he turned on his heel and walked away. In one glance he had read Miriam's secret. Now he understood that look of wild appeal, baffled rage, mortification and disappointment all jumbled together in her turbulent soul. Did she really want it so badly as all that, he thought, or was it only her insatiable desire never to be beaten? In the meantime, Grace, surrounded by a circle of her school-fellows, was telling them the history of her imprisonment. Miss Thompson and Mrs. Harlow had made their way across the floor to the crowd of Sophomores. Mrs. Harlow, to find out whether her daughter's cheek had been seriously cut, which it had not, and the principal to ask a few questions. Did it look like a trick, Grace? she asked when she had heard the story. I hardly know, Miss Thompson. I feel certain that I left the door open when I went in. The janitoress may have locked it without seeing me. Perhaps, answered Miss Thompson thoughtfully, but the rule of locking the larger classrooms after school hours has never been followed that I know of. There's really no reason for it, and it might cause some delay in the morning, in case Mrs. Gunby were not around to unlock the doors. You will have to send a bill to Father for all the broken glass, laughed Grace. I shouldn't have been here at this moment if I hadn't done some smashing. Miss Thompson smiled. You were perfectly right to do it, my dear. It was an exhibition of good judgment and great courage, as for the bill, certainly the victim of an employee's stupidity should not be held accountable for costs. But we won't disturb you now with any more questions. You deserve to win the game, and I hope with all my heart you will. There was still a little time left, and Grace determined to improve those shining moments by having a talk with Miriam. Miriam never looked up when Grace approached her. Her dark brows were knit in an ugly frown, and her eyes were on the floor. Miriam, aren't you glad I got out of prison in time, asked Grace cordially. I suppose so, answered Miriam, looking anywhere but at Grace. Is there anything the matter with you today, continued Grace? No, answered Miriam shortly. Your playing is not up to mark. The girls are very uneasy. Won't you try to do a little better next half? There was a childlike appeal in Grace's voice that grated so on Miriam's nerves at that moment that she deliberately turned and walked away, leaving Grace standing alone. Wait a minute, Miriam, called Nora, who, with some of the other sophomores, had been watching the scene. You aren't ill today, are you? No, replied Miriam angrily. Because if you are really ill, you know, continued Nora, your sub could take your place, and a ray can play a great deal better game than you played the first half. Miriam turned on Nora furiously, and was about to make one of her most violent replies when the whistle blew and the girls flew to their places. Julia Crosby and Grace smiled at each other in the most friendly fashion, as they stood face to face for the last time that season. There was nothing but good-natured rivalry between them now. The referee balanced the ball for an instant, her whistle to her lips. Then the ball shot up, her whistle sounded, and the great decisive last half had begun. Grace managed to bat the ball as it descended in the direction of one of her eager forwards, who tried for the basket and just missed it. The juniors made a desperate attempt to get the ball into their territory, but the sophomore's were too quick for them, and Nora made a brilliant throw to goal that caused the sophomore fans to cheer with wild enthusiasm. It was a game long to be remembered. Both teams fought with a determination and spirit that caused their fans in the gallery to shout themselves hoarse. The juniors made some plays little short of marvellous, and five minutes before the last half was over, the score stood eight to six in favour of the sophomore's. This game will end in a tie if they're not careful, exclaimed Hippie. No, Nora has the ball. She'll score if anyone can. Put her home, Nora, he yelled excitedly. Nora was about to make one of the lightning goal throws for which she was noted, when, like a flash, Miriam Nesbitt seized the ball from her and attempted to make the play herself, but her aim was inaccurate. The ball flew wide of the basket and was seized by a junior guard. The tie seemed inevitable. A groan went up from the gallery. Then a distinct hiss was heard, and a second later the entire sophomore class hissed Miriam Nesbitt. Miss Thompson rose, thinking to call the house to order, but sat down again, shaking her head. They know what they are about, she said, for Grace herself did not know the game any better than the principal. It was inexcusable of Miriam, inexcusable and intentional, in attempting to gratify her own vanity she has prevented her side from scoring at a time when all personal desires should be put aside. She really deserves it. But the score was not tied after all, for the junior guard fumbled the ball, dropped it, and before she could regain possession of it, it was speeding toward Marianne Barber, thrown with an erring accuracy by Grace. Up went Marianne's hands. She grasped it, then hurled it with all her might straight into the basket. Five seconds later the whistle blew with the score ten to six. The sophomores had won. The enthusiastic fans of both classes rushed out of the gallery and down the stairs to the gymnasium. Two tall sophomores seized Grace, and making a chair of their hands carried her around the gymnasium, followed by the rest of the class. Sounding their class yell at the tops of their voices. The story of Grace's imprisonment and escape out of the third story window went from mouth to mouth, and her friends eagerly crowded the floor in an effort to speak to her. There were high school yells and class yells until Miss Thompson was obliged to cover her ears to deaden the noise. Miss Thompson made her way through the crowd to where Grace was standing in the midst of her admiring schoolmates. The principal took the young captain in her arms, embracing her tenderly. Surely no one had ever seen Miss Thompson display so much unrestrained and candid emotion before. There were tears in her eyes, her voice trembled when she spoke. It was a great victory, Grace. I congratulate you and your class. You have fought a fine, courageous battle against great odds. Many another girl who had climbed out of a third story window, without even a rope to hold by, would have little strength left to play basketball, much less to win the championship. I am very proud of you today, my dear. And she kissed Grace right on the deep red scratch that marred her cheek. She was a girl after my own heart, Miss Thompson was thinking, as she hurried to her office. Grace has faults, of course, but on the other hand, she is as honest as the day, modest about her ability, unselfish, and with boundless courage. Certainly, she is a splendid influence in a school, and I wish I had more pupils like her. It was with difficulty that Grace extricated herself from her admiring friends, and, accompanied by her chums, made for the locker-room to Don Street attire. Now that it was all over, the reaction had set in, and she began to feel a little tired, although she was almost too happy for words. She walked along, dimly alive to what the girls were saying. Nora was still upset over Miriam Nesbitt's lawless attempt to score, and sputtered angrily all the way down the corridor. I should think Miriam Nesbitt would be ashamed to show her face in school again after this afternoon's performance, Nora declared. Did you see what David did, queried Jessica? Yes, I did, Sir Anne. What was it asked Grace coming out of her daydream? The minute the girls began to hiss Miriam, he got up and walked out of the gymnasium, Jessica replied. I believe he was so deeply ashamed of what she did that he couldn't bear to stay. Well, he found Grace, and rescued her in time for the game, said Anne. That must be some consolation to him. I don't see how you got locked in, Grace. Are you sure you didn't close the door after you? It has a spring lock, you know. I thought I left it open, mused Grace, but I might have unconsciously pulled it too. It is very strange, replied Anne, in whose mind a vague suspicion had taken root, then she made a mental resolve to do a little private investigating on her own account. When Grace reached home that night, she found two boxes awaiting her. Oh, what can they be? She cried in great excitement, for it was not every day that she found two imposing packages on the hall-table, at the same time addressed to her. Open them and see little daughter, replied Grace's father, pinching her unscratched cheek. The one was a large box of candy from her classmates, the contents of which they helped to devour the next day. The other box held a bunch of violets and lilies of the valley. In this were two cards, Mrs. Robert Nesbitt and Mr. David Nesbitt. Poor old David, thought Grace, as she buried her nose in the violets, he is trying to atone for Miriam's sins. CHAPTER XXI. A piece of news. After the excitement of the famous game came a great calm, the various teachers privately congratulated themselves on the marked improvement in lessons and were secretly relieved with the thought that basketball was laid on the shelf for the rest of the school year. Miriam Nesbitt left Oakdale for a visit the Monday after the game and did not return for two weeks. The general opinion seemed to be that she was ashamed of herself, but the expression on her face when she did return was not indicative of either shame or humility. She was more aggressive than before, and looked as though she considered the whole school far beneath her. She refused to even nod to Grace, Nora, Anne, or Jessica, while Julia Crosby remarked with a cheerful grin that she guessed Miriam had forgotten that they had ever been introduced. During the Easter holidays, Tom Gray came down and his aunt gave a dinner to her adopted children in honor of her nephew. Nora gave a fancy dress party to about twenty of her friends, while Grace invited the seven young people to a straw ride and a moonlight picnic in Upton Wood. The days sped swiftly by, and spring came with her wealth of bud and bloom. During the long barmy days, Grace inwardly chafed at school books and lessons she wanted to be out of doors. As she sat trying to write a theme for her advanced English class one sunny afternoon during the latter part of April, she glanced frequently at the window toward the golf-links that lay just beyond the high school campus. How she wished it were Saturday instead of only Wednesday—that very day she had arranged to play a game of golf with one of the senior-class girls who had made a record the previous year on the links—Grace felt rather flattered at the notice of the older girl who was considered particularly exclusive, and rarely, if ever, paid any attention to the lower-class girls. She had accidentally learned that Grace was an enthusiastic golfer and therefore lost no time in asking her to play. I was awfully surprised when she asked me to play confided Grace to her chums on the way home from school that afternoon. Oh, that's nothing, said Jessica. She ought to feel honored to think you consented. You are really an Oakdale celebrity, you know. Please remember when you are basking in the light of her senior countenance that you once had friends among the sophomore's, said Nora, in a mournful tone. I consider both those remarks verging on idiotic laughed Grace. Don't you, Anne? Certainly, replied Anne. But let me add a word of caution. Don't allow this mark of senior caprice to turn your head. Remember you are— You're worse than the others, cried Grace. Let's change the subject. Saturday proved a beautiful day, and with a light heart, Grace started for the links with her golf bag strapped across her shoulder. The senior, whose name was Ethel Post, sat waiting for her on one of the rustic benches set under a tree at one side of the starting place. She greeted Grace cordially, and the two girls set to work without delay to demonstrate their prowess as golfers. The caddies, two small boys of Oakdale, who could be hired at the links by any one desiring their services, carried the girls' clubs and hunted lost balls with alacrity. Miss Post found that Grace was a foam and worthy of her steel. The young girl's arm was steady, and she delivered her strikes with decision. Grace came out two holes ahead. Miss Post was delighted. I hope you all golf with me often, Miss Harlow, she said cordially. It's so seldom one finds a really good player. I am fond of all games and outdoor sports, replied Grace, but I like basketball best of all. Did you attend any of our games during the winter, Miss Post? No, answered the senior. I'm not much interested in basketball. I really paid no attention to it this year, and haven't attended a game since I was a freshman. Speaking of basketball, continued Miss Post. I picked up a paper last fall, with a whole lot of basketball plays written on it. It was labeled, Sophomore Basketball Signals, and I turned it over to one of the girls in your class. She happened to be on the team, too, and seemed very glad to get it. I presume it was hers, although she didn't say so. At the mention of the word signals, Grace pricked up her ears. As Miss Post innocently told of finding the list, Grace could hardly control herself. She wanted to get up and dance a jig on the green. She was about to learn the truth at last. Trying to keep the excitement she felt out of her voice, Grace asked in a low tone, whom did you return it to, Miss Post? Why, Miss Nesbitt, was the answer. I was inside the campus when I found it, and just then she passed me on the walk. I knew she was a Sophomore and thought it best to get rid of it, as I would probably have forgotten all about it, and it never would have been returned. Quite true, Grace replied, but she thought to herself that a great deal of unhappiness might have been avoided if Miss Post had only forgotten. The talk drifted into other channels. Miss Post told Grace that she expected to sail for Europe as soon as school was over. In the fall she would return and enter Wellesley. She had crossed the ocean once before and had done the continent. This time she intended to spend all of her time in Germany. Grace decided her new acquaintance to be a remarkably bright girl. At any other time she would have listened to her with absorbed interest, but try as she might, Grace could not focus her attention on what was being said. One thought was uppermost in her mind that Miriam was the real culprit. What was to be done about it? She would gain nothing by exposing Miriam to her classmates. There had been too much unpleasantness already. If there was only some way that Miriam could be brought to see the folly of her present course, Grace decided to tell Anne the news that night and ask her advice. During the walk home from the links, Grace kept continually thinking, I knew it was Miriam. She gave them to Julia. She replied rather absent-mindedly to Miss Post's comments and left the older girl with the impression that Miss Harlow was not as interesting as she had at first seemed. Grace escaped from the supper table at the earliest opportunity and seizing her hat made for Anne's house as fast as her feet would take her. Anne opened the door for her. Oh, Anne! Anne! You never can guess what I know! cried Grace before she was fairly inside the house. Of course I can't reply to Anne any more than you can guess what I know. Why, do you know something special too, demanded Grace? I do indeed, but tell me your news first and then I'll tell you mine, said Anne, pushing Grace into a chair. Mine's about Miriam, said Grace soberly. So is mine, was the reply, and it's nothing creditable either. Well, began Grace. You know I went over to the golf links today with Ethel Post of the senior class. Anne nodded. We were sitting on a bench resting after the game and the subject of basketball came up. Before I knew it, she was telling me all about finding the list of signals you lost last fall. She gave them to one of our class. You can guess who. Miriam, said Anne. Yes, it was Miriam. I always suspected that she had more to do with it than anyone else. She gave Julia the signals because she wanted to see me humiliated and fasten suspicion on you to shield herself. She knew that I had boasted openly that my team would win. When Julia gave me the statement that cleared you in the eyes of the girls, she told me that she was under promise not to tell how she obtained the signals. But I'm sure she knew that I suspected Miriam. What do you think we ought to do about it? Grace looked anxiously at Anne. I don't know yet, Anne replied. Now listen to my news. I have felt ever since the game that you're getting locked up was not accidental. I don't know why I felt so, but I did, nevertheless. So I set to work to find out if anyone else had been around there that day. I went to the janitor's and asked her if she had noticed anyone in the corridors before half-past one. That was about the time that people began to come, you know? She said she hadn't. She was down in the basement and didn't go near the upstairs classrooms until after two o'clock, but when she did go up there she found this. Anne held up a curious scarab pin that Grace immediately recognized. It was one that Miriam Nesbitt often wore and was extremely fond of. It's Miriam's, gasped Grace. I wonder why— She stopped. The reason Miriam had not made her loss known was plain. She was afraid to tell where and when she had lost her pin. I see, said Grace, slowly. It looks pretty bad, doesn't it? But why didn't the janitor's take it straight to Miss Thompson? That's what she usually does with articles she finds. She missed seeing Miss Thompson that Saturday, said Anne. When I hunted her up early Monday morning in order to question her, she asked me if I had lost her pin. She said she had just returned one to Miss Thompson and told me where she had found it. I asked her to describe the pin and at once recognized it. Every girl in school knows that scarab of Miriam's. There is nothing like it in Oakdale. For a minute I didn't know what to do. Don't you remember when Miriam first had it? She showed it to Miss Thompson and Miss Thompson spoke of how curious it was. I knew that Miss Thompson would not be apt to forget it. I hurried up to her office and found her with the pin in her hand. She had sent for Miriam, but the messenger came back with the report that Miriam wasn't in school. She laid the pin down and said, What is it, Anne? So I just asked her if she would let me have the pin. Of course, she looked surprised and asked me if I knew to whom it belonged. I told her I did. Then she looked at me very hard and asked me to tell her exactly why I wanted it. But of course I couldn't tell her, so I didn't say anything. Then she said, Anne, I know without being told why you want this pin. I am going to give it to you and let you settle a delicate matter in your own way. I am sure it will be the right one. Anne Pearson, you bad child, exclaimed Grace, to think that you've kept this to yourself ever since the game. Why didn't you tell me? I wanted to think what to do about it before telling even you, Anne replied. Yesterday I had a long talk with David. He knows everything that Miriam has done since the beginning of their freshman year. He feels dreadfully about it all. I think you and I ought to go to her and tell her that we were willing to forget the past and be her friends. It would do no good, said Grace, dubiously. She would simply laugh at us. I used to have dreams about making Miriam see the evil of her ways, but I have come to the conclusion that they were dreams and nothing more. Let's try anyway, said Anne. David says she seems sad and unhappy and is more gentle than she has been for a long time. All right, we'll beard the lion in her den, the nesbit on her soil, if you say so. But I expect to be routed with great slaughter, said Grace, with a shudder. When do we go forth on our mission of reform? We'll call on her tomorrow after school, Anne replied. And don't forget that you once made the remark that you thought Miriam had a better self. You told me the day you read Julia Crosby's statement to the girls that you wouldn't give her up. I suppose that I shall have to confess that I did say so, laughed Grace. But that was before she locked me up. She is so proud and stubborn that she will probably take the olive branch we hold out and trample upon it. After all, it really isn't our place to hold out olive branches anyway. She is the one who ought to eat humble pie. I feel ashamed to think I have to tell her what I know about her. So do I, responded Anne. It's horrid to have to go to people and tell them about their misdeeds. I wouldn't propose going now if it weren't for David. He seems to think that she would be willing to behave if someone showed her how. All right, said Grace. We'll go. But if we encounter a human tornado, don't say I didn't warn you. That's one reason I want to go to her house, replied Anne. If we approach her at school, she is liable to turn on us and make a scene, or else walk off with her nose in the air. If we can catch her at home, perhaps you will be more amenable to reason. But if to-morrow she refuses to melt and be forgiven, then I wash my hands of her for ever. I feel my knees beginning to wobble, Grace observed as they rang the bell. This business of being a reformer has its drawbacks. How would we better begin? I don't know. The inspiration to say the right thing will probably come when we see her, said Anne. If she behaves in her usual manner, I shall have a strong inspiration to give her a good shaking, said Grace Bluntly. To their relief, the maid who answered the bell informed them that Miriam had gone out for a walk. Do you know which way she went, Grace asked? I think Miss that she went toward Upton Wood. She often walks there, replied the maid. The girls thanked her and started down the walk. Miriam ought never to walk alone in Upton Wood, especially this time of year, remarked Grace. There are any amount of tramps lurking around. If David knew it, he would be awfully provoked. Let's walk over that way, and perhaps we'll meet her, suggested Anne. Now that we've started, I hate to turn back. If we don't see her today, we'll keep on putting it off and end up not seeing her at all. That's true, Grace agreed. The two girls strolled along in the direction of Upton Wood, thoroughly enjoying their walk. Occasionally they stopped to gather a few wild flowers or listen to the joyous trail of a bird. They were at the edge of the wood, when Grace suddenly put up her hand. Hush, she said. I hear voices. Just then the cry, Help, Help rang out. That's Miriam's voice, cried Grace. Glancing quickly about her for a weapon, Grace picked up a good-sized stick she found on the ground and ran in the direction of the sound, and at her heels. Miriam was struggling desperately to free herself from the grasp of a rough, unkempt fellow who had her by the arm, and was trying to abstract the little gold watch that she wore fastened to her shirt-waste with a shatter-lane pin. The tramp stood with his back to the approaching girls. Before he was aware of their presence, Grace brought her stick down on his head with all the force she had in her strong young arms. With a howl of pain he released Miriam whirling on his assailant. Grace hit him again, the force of her second blow knocking him over. Before the man could regain his feet, the three girls were off through the wood. They ran without looking back until fairly out in the open field. I don't see him, panted Grace, halting to get her breath. I guess he's gone. Anne was pale and trembling. The run out of the woods had been almost too much for her. As for Miriam, she was sobbing quite hysterically. Don't cry, Miriam, soothed Grace, putting her arm around the frightened girl. He can't hurt you now. I am so glad that we happened along. You ought never to go into Upton wood alone, you know." Miriam gradually gained control of herself, wiping her eyes. She asked, How did you ever happen to be out here just at the time I needed help? To tell the truth we were hunting for you, Grace replied. Your maid said that you had gone to ward Upton wood. We walked on, expecting every minute to meet you. Then we heard you scream, and that's all. It's not all, said Miriam quickly. I know I have been a wretch. I have made things unpleasant for you two girls ever since we started in at high school. I made fun of Anne and tried to make her lose the freshman prize. I sent her that doll a year ago last Christmas, knowing that it would hurt her feelings. But the things I did last year aren't half as bad as all I've done this year. I gave—that's just what we came to see you about, Miriam, interrupted Grace. We know that you gave the signals to Julia, and we know that you locked me in the classroom the day of the big game. Miriam flushed with shame, and her lip quivered. Seeing her distress, Grace went on quickly. The janitor has found your scarab pin just outside the door on the day of the game. Anne has it here for you. Anne fumbled in her purse, and drew out the pin. But how did you get it? asked Miriam faintly, as she took the pin with evident reluctance. Miss Thompson gave it to me, Anne answered. Miriam looked frightened. Then she knows— Nothing, said Grace softly. As soon as Anne heard that Miss Thompson had your pin and knew where it had been found, she went right to the office and asked Miss Thompson to give it to her. Miss Thompson thought from the first that I had been the victim of a trick. Anne knew that the finding of your pin would make her suspect you. She had already sent for you when Anne reached the office. Luckily you weren't in school. Anne asked permission to return the pin to you. She wouldn't give any reason for asking. Finally Miss Thompson handed it to her and told Anne she was sure she would do what was right. You owe a great deal to Anne Miriam, Grace continued, for if she had not gone to Miss Thompson I am afraid you would have been suspended from school. Miss Thompson would have had very little mercy upon you, for she knew about those examination papers last June. Miriam looked so utterly miserable and ashamed at Grace's words that Anne hastened to say, I would have given you your pin at once, Miriam, but you were away from school. Then David told me how unhappy you seemed. I hadn't said a word to any one about the pin until I told Grace. We decided to come and see you and say that we were willing to let bygones be bygones if you were. We thought it was right to let you know that we knew everything. There's only one other person who knows, that person is your brother. He knew I locked you up the day of the game, faulted Miriam. The way he looked at me has haunted me ever since. He thinks me the most dishonorable girl in the world. She began to cry again. Anne and Grace walked along silently beside the weeping girl. They thought it better to let her have her cry out. She really deserved to spend a brief season in the valley of humiliation. They had now left the fields and were turning into one of the smaller streets of Oakdale. Miriam said, Grace, try and brace up. We'll soon be on Main Street and you don't want people to see you cry, do you? Here, extracting a little book of rice-powder paper from her bag, rub this over your face and the marks of your tears won't show. Miriam took the paper gratefully and did as Grace bade her. Then she straightened up and gave a long sigh. I feel like that man in Pilgrim's progress after he dropped his burden from his back, she said. The mean things I did never bothered me until just lately. After I saw that my own brother had nothing but contempt for me, I began to realise what a wretch I was, and the remorse has been just awful. It was David, after all, who had been instrumental in holding up the mirror so that his stubborn sister could see herself as others saw her. Although she had quarrelled frequently with him, she had secretly respected his high standard of honour and fine principles. The fear that he despised her utterly had brought her face to face with herself at last. Anne has always wanted to be friends with you, Miriam, Grace said earnestly, as they neared the Nesbitt home. You and I used to play together when we were little girls in the grammar school. It's only since we started high school that this quarrelling has begun. Let's put it all aside and swear to be friends, tried and true. From now on, you can be a great power for good if you choose. We all ought to try to set up a high standard for the sake of those who come after. Then Oakdale will have good reason to be proud of her high school girls. They had reached the gate. Miriam turned and stretched out a hand to each girl. There was a new light in her eyes. My dear, dear friends, she said softly. A shrill whistle broke in upon this little love-feast, and the three girls looked up. David was hurrying down the walk, his face aglow. I whistled to attract your attention. I was afraid you girls would go before I could reach you. Mother wants you girls to come in for dinner. She saw you from the window. Don't say you can't, for I'm going to call on the Pearsons and Harlow's right now and inform them that their daughters are dining out tonight. So hurry along now for mother's waiting for you. A minute later, he had mounted his motorcycle and was off down the street, going like the wind. The girls entered the house and were warmly greeted by Mrs. Nesbit. She and David had viewed the little scene from the window. She had deeply deplored Miriam's attitude toward Grace and her chums. It was with delight that she and David had watched the three girls stop at the gate and clasp hands. She therefore hurried her son out to the girls to offer them her hospitality. Anne had never before entered the Nesbit home. She thought it very beautiful and luxurious. Miriam put forth every effort to be agreeable and the time passed so rapidly that they were surprised when dinner was announced. After dinner, Miriam, who was really a brilliant performer for a girl of her age, played for them. Anne, who was a music-hungry little soul, listened like one entranced. David, seeing her absorption, beckoned to Grace, who stole softly out of the room without being observed. Once out in the hall, the two young people did a sort of wild dance to express their feelings. You are the best girl a fellow ever knew, said David in a whisper. How did you do it? I'll tell you some other time, whispered Grace, who had cautioned the girls to say nothing of the adventure for fear of frightening Miriam's mother. Let's go back before they notice we're gone. Anne is too wrapped up in music to pay any attention to us. Coming up to my workshop, I want to show you something I'm working at in connection with my aeroplane. We can talk there without being disturbed. I want to know what worked this transformation. It is really too good to be true. I've always wanted Miriam to be friends with Anne, but I had just about lost all hope. Grace followed David up the stairs and through the hall to his workshop, which was situated at the back of the house. Now, said the young man, as he pushed forward a stall for his guest, fire away. Grace began with their call at the house, their walk in search of Miriam, and their adventure with the tramp, modestly making light of her own bravery. When she had finished, David held out his hand, his face glowing with appreciation. Grace, he said, you've more spirit and courage than any girl I ever knew. You ought to have been a boy. You would have done great things. Grace felt that this was the highest compliment David could pay her. She had always cherished a secret regret that she had been born a girl. Thank you, David, she said blushing, then hastily changed the subject. Tell me about your aeroplane. Is it still at the Old Omnibus house? Yes, David answered. I had it here all winter, but I moved it out there again about a month ago. I should like to see it again, said Grace. I didn't have time to look at it carefully, the day you invited us out there. I'll take you over any time you want to go, said David. Oh, better still, here's a duplicate key to the place. You can take the girls and go over there whenever you please without waiting for me. You are the only person that I trust with this key, Grace," he added gravely. I had it made in case old John or I should lose those we carry. I wouldn't even let the fellows have one. For fear they might go over there, get careless and do some damage. It's awfully good of you, David," Grace replied, as she took the key. I'll be careful not to lose it. I'll put it on my watch chain. It's such a small key. It is not likely it will be noticed. Grace took from her neck the long silver chain from which her watch was suspended. She opened the clasp, slid the key on the chain, and tucked both watch and key snugly into her belt. There, she said patting it, that can't get lost. My chain is very strong. I prefer a chain to a pin or fob, because either one is so easy to lose. That sensible, commented David, girls wouldn't be eternally losing their watches if they weren't so vain about wearing those silly little chatterlane pins. Why, David Nesbitt exclaimed Grace, glancing up at the mission-clock on the wall. It's almost nine o'clock. I had no idea it was so late. Let's go down at once." They returned to the parlor to find Ann and Miriam deep in some foreign photographs that Miriam had collected during her trip to Europe the previous summer. How I should love to see Europe, sighed Ann. I'm going there some day, though, if I live, she added, with a sudden resolution. Mother and father have promised me a trip across as a graduation gift. Maybe you'll be able to go too by that time, Ann, said Grace, hopefully. Perhaps I shall, but I'm afraid it's doubtful, said Ann, smiling a little. We've had a fine time, Miriam, said Grace, but we really must go. Mother will worry if I stay any later. Please come again soon, said Miriam, kissing both girls affectionately. I have a plan to talk over with you, but I can't say anything about it now. I must consult Mother first. You'll like it, I'm sure." Of course we shall, responded Grace. Good night, Miriam, and pleasant dreams. They are the nicest girls in Oakdale, and I shall try hard to be like them, thought Miriam, as she closed the door. David is right—it certainly pays to be square. June had come, bringing with it the trials and tribulations of final examinations. The days grew long and sunny. Rose is nodded from every bush, but the pupils of Oakdale's two high schools were far too busy to think about the beauty of the weather. Golf, tennis, baseball, and other outdoor sports were sternly put aside, and the usual season of cramming set in. Young faces wore an almost tragic expression, and back lessons were reviewed with desperate zeal. Grace Harlow had crammed as assiduously as the rest for a day or two. She was particularly shaky on her geometry. She went over her theorems until she came to triangles, then she threw the book down in disgust. What's the use of cramming, she said to herself? If I keep on, I won't even be able to remember that the hypotenuse of a right-angled triangle is equal to the sum of the squares of the two other sides. I'm in a muddle over these triangles now. I'll find the girls and get them to go to the woods with me. I really ought to collect a few more botany specimens. Grace's specimens were a source of keen delight to her girlish heart. She didn't care so much about pressing and mounting them. It was the joy she experienced in being in the woods that, to her, made botany the most fascinating of studies. She poked into secluded spots unearthing rare specimens. Her collection was already overflowing. Still, she could never resist adding just a few more. She was doomed to disappointment as far as Nora and Jessica were concerned. Both girls mournfully shook their heads when invited to specimen hunting, declaring regretfully they were obliged to study. Anne was at Mrs. Grace attending to the old lady's correspondence. This had been her regular task since the beginning of the freshman year, and she never failed to perform it. Oh, dear! I wish examinations in school were over, Grace sighed impatiently. I can't go to the woods alone, and I can't get anyone to go with me. I suppose I'll have to give it up and go home. No, I won't either. I'll go as far as the Old Omnibus House. There are lots of wild plants in the orchard surrounding it, and I may get some new specimens. With her basket on her arm, Grace turned her steps in the direction of the old house. She had not been there since the day of their reunion. She smiled to herself as she recalled the absurdities of that occasion. After traversing the orchard several times and finding nothing startling in the way of specimens, Grace concluded that she might as well have stayed at home. She walked slowly over to the steps and sat down, placing the basket beside her. How lonely it seems here today, she thought. I wonder where old John is? I haven't seen him for an age. Then she fell to musing over the school year so nearly ended. Everything that had happened passed through her mind like a panorama. It had been a stormy year full of quarrels and bick rings, but it was about to end gloriously. Ann and Miriam had become the best of friends, while she and Julia Crosby were daily finding out each other's good qualities. There was nothing left to be desired. Grace started from her dream and looked at her watch. It was after six o'clock. She'd better be getting back. She rose and reached for her basket. Suddenly a figure loomed up before her. Grace started in surprise to find herself facing a tall, thin man with wild, dark eyes. He stood with folded arms, regarding her fixedly. Why, where, but she got no further, for the curious newcomer interrupted her. Ah, Josephine, he said, so I have found you at last. My name isn't Josephine at all. It's Grace Harlow, and you have made a mistake, said Grace, endeavouring to pass him. But he barred her way, saying sadly, What, do you two pretend? Do you think I do not know you? I, your royal husband, Napoleon Bonaparte. Good gracious, gasped Grace. He's crazy as can be. However shall I get away from him? The man heard the word crazy and exclaimed angrily. How dare you call me crazy? You of all people should know, I am sane. I have just returned from Isle of St Helena to claim my empire. For years I have been in exile, but now I am free. Free! he waved his arms wildly. Yes, of course I know you now, said Grace, thinking to mollify him. How strange that I didn't recognise you before. Then she remembered reading in the paper of the preceding night of the escape of a dangerous lunatic from the state asylum that was situated a few miles from Oakdale. This must be the man. Grace decided that he answered the description the paper had given. She realised that she would have to be careful not to anger him. It would require strategy to get clear of him. It's time you remembered me, returned Napoleon Bonaparte petulantly. They told me that you had died years ago, but I knew better. Now that I have found you, we'd better start for France at once. Have you your court robes with you? And what have you done with your crown? You are dressed like a peasant. He was disdainfully eyeing her brown linen gown. In spite of her danger, Grace could scarcely repress a laugh. It all seemed so ludicrous. Then a sudden thought seized her. You see, I have nothing fit to travel in, she said. Suppose you wait here for me while I go back to town and get my things. Then I can appear properly at court. No, you don't, said Napoleon promptly, a cunning expression stealing into his face. If you go, you'll never come back. I need your influence at the royal court, and I can't afford to lose you. I am about to conquer the world. I should have done it long ago if those villains hadn't exiled me and locked me up. He walked back and forth, muttering to himself, still keeping his eye on Grace for fear that she might escape. Ah, what shall I do, thought the terrified girl. Goodness knows what he'll think of next. He may keep me here until dark, and I shall die if I have to stay here until then. I must get away. Grace knew that it would be sheer folly to try to run. Her captor would overtake her before she had gone six yards. Not to mention the fit of rage her attempted flight would be likely to throw him into. She anxiously scanned the neighbouring fields in the hope of seeing old Jean, the hunter. He was usually not far away. But look as she might she could discover no sign of him. There was only one thing in her favour. It would be light for some time yet. Being June the darkness would not descend for two hours. She must escape, but how was she to do it? She racked her brain for some means of deliverance but received no inspiration. Again she drew out her watch. Then her eye rested for a second on the little key that hung on her watch-chain. It was the key to the lean-to in which David kept his aeroplane. Like a flash the way was revealed to her. But would she be able to carry out the daring design that had sprung into her mind? She would try at any rate. With an unconcern that she was far from feeling Grace walked carelessly toward the door of the lean-to. The demented man was beside her in a twinkling. He clutched Grace by the arm with a force that made her catch her breath. What she trying to do he exclaimed glaring at her savagely. Didn't I tell you that you couldn't go away? He held her at arm's length with one hand and threateningly shook his finger at her. Remember once and for all that I am your emperor and must be obeyed. Disregard my commands and you shall pay the penalty with your life. What is the life of one like you to me when I hold the fate of nations in my hands? Perhaps it would be better to put an end to you now. Women are ever given over to intriguing and deception. You might betray me to my enemies. Yet I believed you loyal in the past. I—indeed I have always been loyal my emperor interrupted Grace eagerly. How can you doubt me? Her situation was becoming more precarious with every minute. She must persuade this terrible individual that she was necessary to his plans, if she wished to get away with her life. I have your welfare constantly at heart," she continued. Have you ever thought of flying to our beloved France? In the shed behind me is a strange ship that flies through the air. Its sails are like the wings of a bird, and it flies with the speed of the wind. It waits to carry us across the sea. It's called an aeroplane. I have heard of such things," said Napoleon. When I was in exile, a fool who came to visit me showed me a picture of one. He told me it could fly like a bird, but he lied. I believe you are lying too," he added, looking at her suspiciously. Let me prove to you the time not, Grace answered, trying to appear calm, though ready to collapse under the terrible strain of the part she was being forced to play. Do you see this key? It unlocks the door that leads to the flying ship. Would you not like to look at it? She said coaxingly. Very well, but be quick about it. I have already wasted too much time with you. I must be off before my enemies find me. You must release my arm, or I cannot unlock the door, Grace said. Oh, yes, you can, rejoin Napoleon, not relaxing his grip for an instant. Do you think I am going to run any risk of losing you? As she turned the key he swung her to one side and, opening the door, peered cautiously in. For a moment he stood like a statue, staring in wonder at David's aeroplane, then with a loud cry that froze the blood in Grace's veins, he threw up his arms and rushed madly into the shed, shouting, We shall fly, fly, fly! With a sob of terror, Grace slammed the door and turned the key. She was not an instant too soon. Napoleon Bonaparte reached it with a bound and threw himself against it, uttering blood-curdling shrieks. The frightful sounds came to Grace's ears as she tore across the field in the direction of Oakdale. Terror lent wings to her feet. Every second was precious. She did not know how long the door would stand against the frantic assaults of the maniac. She had reached the road when, to her joy and relief, she beheld half a dozen men approaching. Stumbling blindly toward them, she panted out, The crazy man, I locked him in the omnibus house. Here is the key. She gave a long, shuddering sigh, and for the first time in her life, sturdy Grace Harlow fainted. The men picked her up tenderly. Here Hampton said one of them, Take this child over to the nearest house. She is all in. By George, I wonder whether she has locked that lunatic up? Something has certainly upset her. We better get over there right away and see what we can find out. The man addressed as Hampton picked Grace up as though she had been a baby, and carried her to a house a little further up the road. Meanwhile, the men hurried on, arriving at the omnibus house, just as Napoleon succeeded in breaking down the door. Before he could elude them, he was seized by five pairs of stalwart arms. He fought like a tiger, making it difficult to bind him. This was finally accomplished, though they were obliged to carry him, for he had to be tied up like a papoose to keep him from doing damage. He raved continually over the duplicity of Josephine, threatening dire vengeance when he should find her. When Grace came to herself, she looked about her in wonder. She was lying on a comfortable couch in a big, cheerful sitting-room. A kindly-faced woman was bathing her temples, while a young girl chafed her hands. Where am I, said Grace feebly. Did Napoleon get out? Lie still and rest, my dear, said Mrs. Forrest. Don't try to exert yourself. Grace sat up and looked about her. Oh, I know what happened. I fainted. How silly of me. I never did that in my life before. I had a terrible scare, but I'm all right now. The man who had carried her to the house came forward. My name is Hampton, Miss. I am a guard over at the asylum. Those other men you saw are employed there, too. We were looking for one of our people who escaped night before last. He nearly killed his keeper. He's the worst patient we have out there. Thinks he's Napoleon. Judging from your fright, I guess you must have met him. Did you really lock him in that old house? Indeed, I did, answered Grace. He was rapidly recovering from the effects of her fright. He took me for the Empress Josephine. She related all that had happened, ending with the way she locked his empresship in. Well, all I've got to say is that you're the pluckiest girl I ever came across, said the man admiringly, when Grace had finished. But she shook her head. I never was so frightened in my life before. I shall never forget his screams. It was after eight o'clock when Grace Harlow arrived at her own door. The man Hampton had insisted on calling a carriage, so Grace rode home in state. As she neared the house, she saw that the lawn and porch were full of people. What on earth is the matter, she asked herself. As she alighted from the carriage, her mother rushed forward and took her in her arms. My darling child, she sobbed, what a narrow escape you have had. You must never, never wander off alone again. Why, mother, how do you know anything about it? When you didn't come home to supper, I felt worried, for you had not told me that you were invited anywhere. Then Nora came down to see you and seemed surprised not to find you at home. She said you had gone on a specimen hunt after school. I became frightened and sent your father out at once to look for you. He met the keepers with that dreadful man, said Mrs. Harlow, shuddering, and they described you telling him where you were and how they had met you. Your father went straight out to the forests. I suppose you just missed him. Grace hugged her mother tenderly. Don't worry, mother, I'm all right. Watch all these people standing around for. They came to see you, of course, the news is all over the town. Everyone is devoured with curiosity to hear your story. It looks as though I had become a celebrity at last, laughed Grace. She was obliged to tell the story of her adventure over and over again that night to her eager listeners. Her chums hung about her adoringly. Hippie, Reddy, and David were fairly beside themselves. Oh, you lunatic snatcher, cried Hippie, throwing up his hat to express his feelings. You never dreamed that the little key you gave me would prove my salvation, said Grace to David, as her friends bade her good night. It surely must have been fate. End of chapter 23