AS A GREAT ADVENTURE

There was no doubt whatever in Nancy's mind that it was Mildred who had
cheated in the examination. But whether Mildred had deliberately left
the book on Alma's desk, or whether she had simply forgotten it, she
did not know. The fact remained, however, that so far Mildred had made
no effort to clear Alma of the suspicion, and knowing Mildred's nature
as she did, Nancy was not inclined to think that Mildred would ever do
so of her own accord. Nancy was willing to give her the benefit of the
doubt so far as believing that she had not intentionally thrown Alma
into such a damaging position. In the first place, she had no motive
for injuring Alma, and in the second place, she ran a very great risk
of discovery herself. Leaving the whys and wherefores, Nancy regarded
the simple fact; that having thus injured Alma, Mildred was not going
to try to clear her, and pay the penalty herself. The thought that
most wounded Nancy was that Alma was under obligations to the girl who
had treated her so badly. The handsome fur neck-piece Mildred had
"lent" her, was not yet paid for, and Nancy shrank from the idea of her
sister's owing money to her. She had, of course, not mentioned this to
Alma, although it had been the first thought that sprang into her own
head, when she first became certain that Mildred was the culprit. It
would have troubled Alma, who was already troubled enough, and she
could have done nothing about it.

"I've got to get that money somehow," Nancy said to herself grimly. "I
can write to Mother for part of it--about half, perhaps, but the other
half I've got to get myself." Naturally, her first idea was to pocket
her pride, and to ask her Uncle Thomas for the money. Not even that
would hurt her so much as the thought of owing it to Mildred; but then
she dismissed this plan from her mind. It was impossible; it would be
a breach of their terms of friendship, for one thing, and for another,
she felt that to explain to him her reasons for wanting it would be
unjust to Alma.

While she was turning one plan after another over in her mind, she
absently took her mother's letter from her pocket, and slit the
envelope open with a hairpin. She glanced almost carelessly at the
lines, written in Mrs. Prescott's pointed, flourishing hand, then all
at once the meaning of the first sentence fixed her wandering attention.

"MY DARLING, DARLING LITTLE DAUGHTERS:

"I can hardly bring myself to