"You don't----" began Constance, but she never finished.

A tense little figure clad in apricot satin confronted her, crying out
in tones too plainly audible to those standing near, "Where is my
bracelet? What have you done with it?"

Constance stared at her accuser in stupefied amazement. Her friends,
too, were for the moment speechless.

"Answer me!" commanded Mignon. "I left it on the table in the
dressing-room. You were the only one in there at the time. When I
remembered and came back for it you were just leaving, but the bracelet
was gone. No one else except you could have taken it."

Still Constance continued to stare in horror at the French girl. She
tried to speak, but the words would not come. Attracted by Mignon's
shrill tones, the dancers began to gather about the two girls. It was
Marjorie who came to her friend's defense.

Even as a wee girl Marjorie Dean had possessed a temper. It was not an
ordinary temper. It was not easily aroused, but when once awakened it
shook her small body with intense fury and the object of her rage was
likely to remember her outburst forever after. Knowing it to be her
greatest fault, she had striven diligently to conquer it and it burst
forth only at rare intervals. To-night, however, the French girl's
heartless denunciation of Constance during a moment of happiness was too
monstrous to be borne. In a voice shaking with indignation she turned to
those surrounding her and said, "Will you please go on dancing? I have
something to say to Miss La Salle."

They scattered as if by magic, leaving Marjorie facing Mignon, her arm
about Constance, her face a white mask, her eyes flaming with scorn.
Then she began in low, even tones:

"I forbid you to say another word either to or about my friend Constance
Stevens. She has not taken your bracelet. She knows nothing about it. I
will answer for her as I would for myself. You have accused her of this
because you wish to disgrace her in the eyes of her friends and
schoolmates. I am not at all sure that you have lost it, but I am very
sure that Miss Stevens hasn't seen it. And now I hope I shall never be
called upon to speak to you again, for you are the cruelest, most
contemptible girl I have ever known; but, if I hear anything further of
this, I will take you to Miss Archer, to the Board of Education, if
necessary, and make you retract every word. Come on, Constance."

With her arm still encircling the now weeping girl, Marjorie mad