lders of
her angry chum. The brown eyes held the blue ones in a long, steadfast
gaze. "Mignon La Salle is only trying to make trouble. If you knew her
as well as I know her, you wouldn't pay any attention to her. We've
been best friends and comrades since we were little tots, Mary, and I
think you ought to trust me. No one can ever be so dear to me as you
are."

"Except Constance Stevens," put in Mary sarcastically, twisting from
Marjorie's hold. "Why, that very first day when you came to the train to
meet me I could see you liked her best. You can imagine how I felt when
even your friends spoke of it. If you really cared about me, you would
have written to me of every single thing that happened last year. You
promised you would. You are very anxious to keep a promise to Constance,
but you didn't care whether you kept one to me. As for what you say of
Miss La Salle, I don't believe you. I'd far rather trust her than your
dear Miss Stevens!"

"What has happened to my brigade?" called Mrs. Dean from the foot of the
stairs. "It is five minutes to one, girls. Come to luncheon at once."

"We are coming, Captain," answered Marjorie in as steady a tone as she
could command. Then she said sorrowfully to her companion, "Mary, I feel
just the same toward you as always, only I am terribly hurt. I wish your
way to be my way and your friends mine. If you are sure that you would
like Mignon for a friend, then I am going to try to like her for your
sake. But we mustn't quarrel or--not--not speak--or--let General and
Captain know--that----" Marjorie's words died in a half-sob.

"It doesn't make any difference to me whether you like Miss La Salle or
not," retorted Mary, ignoring Marjorie's distress, "but if you say a
single word to either General or Captain about us, I'll never speak to
you again." With this threat the incensed lieutenant ran heartlessly
down the stairs, leaving her sadly wounded comrade to follow when she
would.

Luncheon was a dismal failure as far as Marjorie was concerned. She
tried to talk and laugh in her usual cheery manner, but she was unused
to dissembling, and it hurt her to play a part before her Captain, of
all persons. Mary, however, found a certain wicked satisfaction in the
situation she had brought about. Now that she had spoken her mind she
would go on in the way she had chosen. Marjorie would be very sorry.
There would come a time when she would be only too glad to plead for the
friendship she ha