t shame connected with herself and her family.

The mystery of it all made Nancy very unhappy at times; but not so
unhappy as before. Now she had a close friend with whom she could
discuss the secret; and Jennie Bruce was just as deeply interested in
Nancy's affairs as was Nancy herself.

"Some day it will come all right, Nance," the former assured her
roommate. "Maybe you and I will find out the truth. Perhaps that O'Brien
boy will help. I have great faith in Scorch, and I want to meet him."

"Oh! do you suppose you and I could go to Cincinnati together!" gasped
Nancy.

"Goody! It would be great!"

"And then you could see Scorch."

"And I want to see that Mr. Gordon. I bet that lawyer knows more about
you than he is willing to tell."

"But perhaps he is doing his best for me, after all," concluded Nancy,
with a sigh.

Number 30, West Side, began to get a new reputation after Jennie came to
it. In the first place, Jennie was one of those girls who bring from
home to boarding school countless mementoes of their home life and of
their family and friends.

Jennie's photographs and funny pictures, and pennants, and all the
other "litter" that a schoolgirl loves spilled over from her own bureau
to Nancy's, and not only was Jennie's side of the den decorated, but
there was plenty to decorate Nancy's side.

No longer was Nancy's dressing-case the most plainly furnished in the
school. There were bows of ribbon, and bright calendar pictures, and
photo-frames, and numberless other little keepsakes tacked to the wall
on Nancy's side.

Jessie Pease put her head into Number 30 a day or two after Jennie's
arrival, and exclaimed with delight:

"Ah-ha! now the dear bairn's got a homey looking room, thanks be! It's
made my heart ache to see how barren the walls were. You're a good girl,
Janie Bruce, if you _do_ make me a world of trouble."

"Trouble! Trouble!" shouted Jennie. "How dare you say such a thing?" and
then she danced around the good soul, clapping her hands and singing:

"Pease Porridge hot--pease porridge cold--
Pease porridge in the pot, nine days old!
Some like it hot--some like it cold--
But Jessie Pease of Pinewood never will be old!"

"Bless ye, Janie," said the good Scotchwoman, "I hope I'll never be any
older than the youngest bairn who comes here to school."

"Sure! you're a regular kid!" declared Jennie, hugging her.

"My usefulness here will be all forbye when I can't be a lass