find this book--obnoxious."

"And you think that I would secrete a book of that kind in my drawer?
That I would touch it any more than you would?"

Blue Bonnet's eyes were appealing now, almost pathetic in their mute
inquiry.

"Do you know of any one who would be likely to put the book in your
drawer, Miss Ashe?"

Miss North had ignored Blue Bonnet's question for a moment.

"No, Miss North, I do not. I don't believe any of the girls I know would
have done it."

"Very well. You may go now. The matter will be thoroughly
investigated."

"And in the meantime I remain under suspicion?"

Blue Bonnet looked as if she had been struck a blow. It was the first
time in her life that her word had ever been doubted in the slightest
particular. She had a great reverence for the truth. It was an
inheritance. "Straight and true like an Ashe, Honey"--the words rang in
her ears now--would always--like an armor they wrapped themselves about
her--protected her....

"We have many of us rested under an injustice, Miss Ashe, but right
always triumphs. I am old fashioned enough to believe that. The matter
will be sifted to the bottom."

Blue Bonnet went up to her room feeling that a cloud had settled upon
her--a cloud black and ominous.

Joy Cross sat in her accustomed seat by the window, reading. She did not
glance up as Blue Bonnet entered, but, if anything, turned her face
farther away.

Blue Bonnet sat down listlessly. Her first thought was to question Joy
in regard to the book, but she hated to mention it; to have any one know
that she was mixed up in such an unsavory affair. Who could have done
such a thing--such a contemptible, cowardly thing? Who, in school,
disliked her enough to put her in such a position? How had it happened?

Round and round in a groove went her thoughts, bringing no solution. She
got up after a while, and opening her top bureau drawer, took out a
small box safely guarded in one corner. From the box she drew a
miniature which she gazed at long and tenderly.

Joy Cross put away her book and left the room.

Blue Bonnet took the miniature to the light. Her throat ached with the
sobs that she had suppressed in Joy's presence. Now the torrent broke.

"Oh, Mother, Mother!" she cried, sinking into a chair, "why can't I have
you to tell me what to do?--why did you have to leave me when I needed
you so?--other girls have mothers--fathers, too--"

So violent was her grief that she did not hear the door