"I want you to let me go."

"I cannot possibly do that, dear. If you go, I go too."

"I must go," said Maggie. "You don't understand. You found things out
about me to-day, and you have behaved--well, splendidly. I didn't give
you credit for it. I didn't know you. Now I do know you, and I see
that no girl in the school can be compared to you for nobleness and
courage, and just for being downright splendid. But, Aneta, I cannot
bear that which is before me."

"The fact is," said Aneta, "you are in the midst of a terrible battle,
and you mean to give in and turn tail, and let the enemy walk over the
field. That is not a bit what I should have expected at one time from
Maggie Howland."

"I will tell you," said Maggie. "I am not really a bit brave; there is
nothing good in me."

"We won't talk about that," said Aneta. "What we have to think about
now is what lies straight ahead of you; not of your past any more,
but your immediate future. You have a tough time before you; in fact,
you have a very great battle to fight, but I do not think you will
turn tail."

"You want me," said Maggie, "to go to Mrs. Ward and tell her
everything?"

"You must do that, Maggie. There is no second course to pursue. There
is no way out. But I have been thinking since I saw you that perhaps
you might have your day on Saturday. I think it would be best for you
to tell Mrs. Ward to-morrow; and I think she would not prevent you
having your day on Saturday. Perhaps it will be necessary--but she is
the one to decide--that some of your schoolfellows should be told; and
of course your little brooch which you sold to Pearce must be got
back. Even Pearce is far too honest to keep it for the price he paid
you."

"He gave me five pounds, and I have spent one. There are still four
pounds left," said Maggie. "I meant to run away with the help of
these."

"I will lend you a pound," said Aneta, "and we'll get the brooch back
to-morrow."

"But, Aneta, I have not yet told you--it is too fearful--you cannot
conceive what my stepfather is like. It isn't only his being a
grocer--for I have no doubt there are lots of grocers who are quite,
quite tolerable; but you cannot imagine what he is. I had a letter
from him a little time ago--that time, you remember, when he sent me
those perfectly awful dresses--and he said then that he and my mother
were coming to see me, as he wanted to interview Mrs. Ward and to look
at the school for himself. Well, that po