on of a number of her school friends.

Only one person left the theatre that night who did not share in the
enthusiasm of the Sanford folks over the creditable work of their town
boys and girls. Mignon La Salle's father had, for once, put business
aside and come out to hear his daughter sing. Why she had not appeared
on the stage, he could not guess. His first thought was that she had
told him an untruth, but the printed programme carried her name as a
principal. He arrived home to be greeted with the servant's assertions
that Miss La Salle was ill and had retired. Going to her room to inquire
into the nature of her sudden illness, he was refused admittance, and
shrewdly deciding that his daughter had been worsted in a schoolgirl's
dispute in which she appeared always to be engaged, he left her to
herself. It was not until long afterward, when came the inevitable day
of reckoning, which was to make Mignon over, that he learned the true
story of that particular night.

It had been arranged beforehand that Constance was to spend the night
with Marjorie. Shortly after Charlie had been comfortably established in
Constance's dressing room, Uncle John Roland had appeared at the stage
door of the theatre, his placid face filled with genuine alarm. He had
been left in charge of Charlie, and the child had eluded his somewhat
lax guardianship and run away. Finding the little violin missing, he
guessed that the boy had made his usual attempt to find the theatre, and
the old man had hastened directly there. Charlie was sent home with him,
despite his wailing plea to remain, thus leaving Constance free to carry
out her original plan.

The Deans exchanged significant smiles at sight of Marjorie, Mary and
Constance approaching the automobile, three abreast, arms firmly linked.

"Attention!" called Mr. Dean. "Salute your officers!" Two hands went up
in instant obedience of the order. Constance hesitated, then followed
suit.

"I see my regiment has increased," remarked Mr. Dean, as he sprang out
to assist the three into the car.

"Yes, Connie has joined the company," rejoiced Marjorie. "I am answering
for her. She needs military discipline."

"Three soldiers are ever so much more interesting than two," put in Mary
shyly. Her earnest eyes sought the face of her Captain, as though to ask
mute pardon for her errors. Mrs. Dean's affectionate smile carried with
it the absolution Mary craved, and Mr. Dean's firm clasp of her hand,
as