happen to be overlooked? If the
girls don't receive their invitations by to-morrow night I'll speak to
my brother about it. He's the president of the junior class, you know,
and he'll take it up with the committee. Come on, girls."

The three young women obediently following her, Jerry marched from the
room with the air of a conqueror. True to her prediction, Marcia Arnold
had found nothing to say to the stout girl's parting shot.

"There really wasn't much use in our going. I'm afraid we weren't very
brave. We shouldn't have stood like wooden images and let you fight our
battles, Jerry. It was awfully dear in you, but I do hope Miss Arnold
won't think Constance and I are babies," demurred Marjorie.

"What do you care what she thinks as long as she hunts up your
invitations?" asked Jerry, with superb contempt. "What she thinks will
never hurt either of you."

The belated invitations were delivered to the two freshmen by Miss
Arnold herself the next day, greatly to Jerry's satisfaction.

"I saw her give them to you, girls," she whispered to Marjorie on the
way to the English class. "She looked mad as a hatter, too. She thought
she'd hold back your invitations until the last minute; then maybe you
would get mad and not go to the dance."

"But why should she wish to keep us from going?" asked Marjorie,
wonderingly.

"Ask Mignon," was Jerry's enigmatical answer. "Very likely she knows
more about it than anyone else."

Marjorie found no chance for conversation with Constance until they met
in French class. Even then she had only time to say, "Be sure to wait
for me this noon," before Professor Fontaine called his class to order
and attacked the advance lesson with his usual Latin ardor.

Constance was first at their locker. She had already put on her own hat
and coat and was holding Marjorie's for her, when her friend arrived.

"What are you going to wear, Constance?" asked Marjorie, as she put on
her coat and hat.

"I'm not going," was the brief answer.

"Not going!" Marjorie stared hard at her friend. Was Constance hurt
because she had not received her invitation? Then she went on, eagerly
apologetic: "It wasn't the Weston boys' fault that we didn't get our
invitations when the others received theirs. They didn't intend to leave
us out, even though they only knew our names."

"It's not that." Constance's voice trembled a little. "I--I--well, I
haven't a dress fit to wear!" Her pale cheeks grew pink with sham