n her
prosecuting attorney voice, after the jury had rendered a verdict of
guilty. "Be deliberate in your decision, but don't be all night about
it."

"They shall be made to shake hands across the table or suffer the full
penalty of the law," stated the judge.

"What is the full penalty of the law?"

"No dinner," was the prompt answer.

"Counsel for the defense, have you anything to say? I should have asked
you before sentence was pronounced, but it doesn't matter. The
prosecuting attorney always tries to fix things to suit himself, no
matter what any one else thinks."

"The counsel for the defense is a mere blot on the landscape in this
trial," jeered Anne.

"How did you guess it?" beamed the prosecuting attorney. "Prisoners, the
sentence will be executed at once. Shake hands."

Ruth's hand was stretched across the table to meet Arline's.

"I'm awfully sorry, Ruth," said Arline, her voice trembling slightly. "I
should never have asked you to tell what you wished to keep secret."

"And I shouldn't have been so silly as to refuse to tell," declared Ruth
bravely. "I'm going to tell you now, and you mustn't stop me. I was
brought up in an orphan asylum. That's why I didn't care to tell you
about myself that evening."

"You poor, precious dear!" exclaimed Arline. "How can I ever forgive
myself for being so horrid? Won't you forgive me, Ruth? I never supposed
it was anything like that. I was angry because you called me your best
friend, but wouldn't trust me. I'm so sorry. I'll never speak of it
again to you." Arline looked appealingly at Ruth, her blue eyes misty.

"But I want you to think of it. I had made up my mind to tell you. Then
you passed me on the campus without speaking, and somehow I didn't dare
come near you after that."

"I've been perfectly horrid, I know," admitted Arline contritely. "I've
been so used to having my own way that I try to bend everyone I know to
it."

"I don't mind telling you girls about myself now. At first I was ashamed
of my poverty," confessed Ruth. "After I went to Arline's beautiful home
I hated to say anything about it to any one. Then Arline grew angry with
me. I realized afterward that I had been foolish not to tell her my
story. There isn't much to tell. I was picked up in a railroad wreck on
a westbound train when I was four years old. I can just remember getting
into the train with my mother. She was burned to death in the wreck, but
by some miracle I was saved. I