ogether. But when the thought recalled to her mind the
consequences of that other stolen meeting, at camp, she actually laughed
aloud.

Her laughter evidently startled some one on the bank, for there
immediately followed a gasp, and then a suppressed sob. Marjorie stopped
paddling.

"Who's there?" she called, softly. "Can I do anything to help----"

A very mussed, woe-begone figure emerged from behind a clump of
rhododendrons. Her hair streamed in her eyes, her summer dress bore
evidence of a careless position, and her tear-stained cheeks of weeping.
It was Alice Endicott, the little freshman whom Ruth had made such fun
of at the sophomore reception. And she was evidently in the deepest
distress.

"Alice!" exclaimed Marjorie, in surprise. "Why, what is the matter?"

"Nothing!" sobbed the girl forlornly. Then, "Everything!"

Both remarks, so entirely opposite, were no doubt correct. Nothing
really was the matter, and yet everything was wrong; for Alice Endicott
was hopelessly homesick.

Marjorie ran the nose of her canoe aground upon the low bank and begged
Alice to get in. Hardly knowing what she was about, the younger girl
climbed into the bow and sank down facing Marjorie.

"Now tell me all about it," said Marjorie, in the most sympathetic tone
imaginable. She thought of her own first days at the school, when Ruth,
obviously so popular, had totally neglected her, and when her own
room-mate, Lily Andrews, had seemed impossible. Remorseful, too, because
of her own selfish happiness, she felt more eager than ever to comfort
the lonely freshman. But it was a difficult matter, she knew.

"I want to go home," sobbed Alice, with her handkerchief at her eyes.

"No, no!" protested Marjorie. "Please give us another chance. Don't you
like it a bit here?"

"I hate it!" exclaimed the other, with more emphasis than Marjorie
thought her capable of. "You're the only girl who's been even half
decent to me."

"And I'm ashamed of myself," muttered Marjorie sadly. "But please
forgive us all, Alice; we didn't realize how you felt. Won't you,
please--and wait a day or two while you decide whether you want to stay
or not?"

Alice stopped crying; she was really surprised at Marjorie's sincerity
in assuming the blame herself. Still, she pursued her same line of
argument.

"There's nothing here that I can't get in school near home."

Marjorie was silent; was this accusation true? Was Miss Allen's really
nicer than any other