beginning to fall, through rosy spectacles. Somehow, not even
the thought of the latest and greatest trouble loomed so very black and
terrifying in her mind. She glanced down at the little book in her
lap, and then opened it at the fly-leaf. He had written, "To
commemorate To-day," and had signed it simply, "George." It had been a
day of unusual unhappiness and unusual pleasure--not even he had
understood what the mingling had been for Nancy, but the memory of the
pleasure outweighed the memory of trouble; as if ashamed of herself she
tried to fix her thoughts on plans for helping and advising her mother
and Alma; but at length she gave it up, to review the little,
delightful trivial memories of "To-day," putting off the recollection
of trouble until To-morrow.

CHAPTER XIV

PARADISE COTTAGE

The twenty-second of December, a red letter date, indeed, for some
fifty excited, bustling girls, dawned without bringing much of a thrill
to the two Prescotts. Neither of them could enter with genuine
enthusiasm into the gay holiday anticipations of the others, finding in
them too depressing a contrast to their own expectations of a not very
happy Christmas tide.

Nancy had shown Alma their mother's letter, and had had several long
and serious talks with the poor child, who had been almost overcome
with despair. Neither of them even thought of the matter of the
examination, that trouble having been completely wiped out by the newer
and heavier one, nor did they draw any particular satisfaction from the
fact that Alma's Latin examination had been credited, and her name
cleared of suspicion, while the identity of the actual culprit remained
their own secret. The debt to Mildred had been paid, Alma evidently
believing that the money had been sent by Providence, and asking Nancy
no questions.

So far as the matter of the examination was concerned, Miss Leland had
allowed the subject to drop, simply announcing her gratification at the
fact that there had unquestionably been a mistake, and that Miss
Drinkwater was satisfied on this point. A coldness that reached the
condition of an almost habitual silence sprang up between Alma and
Mildred, and the fact that Mildred asked for no explanations gave
further circumstantial proof of her own guilt.

The incident of her trip to New York with the ring and her meeting with
Mr. Arnold Nancy did not mention; feeling a peculiar shyness about it,
and a wholesome dread of being