to impress on your
minds. The way of the reformer is hard."

CHAPTER XIII

IN DEFENCE OF MIGNON

"Here are two letters for you, Lieutenant," called her mother, as
Marjorie burst into the living-room, her cheeks pink from a brisk run up
the drive. After leaving her schoolmates Marjorie had set off for home
as fast as her light feet would carry her. She managed to keep to a
decorous walk until she had swung the gate behind her, then she had
sped up the drive like a fawn.

"Oh, lovely!" cried Marjorie. "Your permission, Captain." She touched
her hand to her hat brim in a gay little salute. Her spirits had been
rising from the moment she had left the girls, carrying with her the
precious security that they were now banded together in a worthy cause.
Surely the snarl would straighten itself in a short time. Mary would
soon see that she intended to keep her word about being friends with
Mignon. Then she would understand that she, Marjorie, was loyal in spite
of her unjust accusations. Then all would be as it had been before.
Perhaps Mary wouldn't be quite her old, sunny self for a few days, but
the shadow would pass--it must.

"Why, it's from Connie!" she cried out in surprise, as her eyes sought
the writing on the upper-most envelope. It was in Constance's irregular,
girlish hand. She hastily tore it open and read.

"DEAREST MARJORIE:

"Last night at my dance I didn't know that father was to be
concertmeister in the symphony orchestra. It is a great honor
and we are all very happy over it. He kept it to himself until
the last minute, because he knew that if he told me, I would
insist on going back to New York with him for his opening
concert. But I'm going with him just the same. I shall be away
from Sanford for a week or so, for I want to be with him until
he goes to Boston. I'll study hard and catch up in school when
I come back. I wish you were going, too, but later in the season
he will be in New York City again. Then Auntie says she will
take you and Mary and me there to hear him play. Won't that be
glorious? I'll write you again as soon as I reach New York and
you must answer with a long letter, telling me about school and
everything. I am so sorry I can't see you to say good-bye, but I
won't have time. Don't forget to answer as soon as I write you.

"Lovingly,
"CONSTANCE."

Marjorie's cheerful face grew blank. Cert