rds,
shielding Mary as far as was possible.

"But I know all this," said Mrs. Dean, a trifle impatiently. "Jerry told
me last night. There is more to this affair than appears on the surface.
What has happened to estrange you two, who have been chums for so many
years? I have seen for some time that matters were not progressing
smoothly between you. Things cannot go on in this way. You must take me
into your confidence. It is evident that a reform is needed here at
home."

Mary stared fixedly at her plate. She was resolved not to be a party to
that reform. If Marjorie failed her, well--she knew the consequences.

Marjorie saw the sullen, mutinous face through a mist of tears. She
tried to speak, but speech refused to come.

"I am ashamed of my soldiers." Mrs. Dean spoke sadly. "What would
General say, if he were here?"

The grave question rang like a clarion call in Marjorie's soul. A vision
of her father's merry, quizzical eyes grown suddenly sober and hurt over
the stubborn resistance of his little army was too much for her. One
mournfully appealing glance at the unyielding Mary and she burst forth
with, "I can't stand it any longer. I must speak. Last year,
when--when--Connie and I had so many unhappy days over my lost butterfly
pin I didn't write Mary about what was happening, because I felt
terribly and wished her to know only the pleasant side of my school
life. So she hadn't the least idea that Connie and I had become such
friends. She thought Connie was just a poor girl whom I tried to help
because I was sorry for her. When I asked Connie to come with us to the
station to meet Mary I was so happy to think they were going to meet
that I am afraid I made Mary believe that Connie had taken her place
with me. You know, Captain, that it couldn't be so. Mary has been and
always will be my dearest friend. I never dreamed she would become----"
Marjorie hesitated. She could not bring herself to say "jealous."

A smile of contempt curved Mary's lips. "Why don't you say 'jealous'?
That's what you mean," she supplemented.

"Very well, I will say it," rejoined Marjorie quietly. "I never dreamed
Mary would become jealous of my friendship with Connie. Before long I
noticed she was not quite her own dear self. Then she said something
that made me see that I ought to tell her all about last year, but I
didn't feel that it would be right until I had asked Connie's
permission. I told Mary I would do that very thing, but at