ed ivory box, Otoyo handed a letter.

"I promised to deliver it on the last day," she said.

"That sounds a good deal like the Judgment Day," said Molly, laughing,
as she tore open the envelope. The letter read:

"The Campus Ghost and the Thief of Lunches has learned from you
what nobody ever told her before: that honesty's the best
policy. I suppose I always enjoyed the other way because I
never was found out. But being found out is different. Honest
people who have nothing to conceal are the happiest. I know that
now, and henceforth the open and above-board for me.

"Yours,
ADELE WINDSOR."

Molly rolled the paper into a little ball and threw it away. Certainly
the note of repentance did not sound very strong in Adele's letter. But
perhaps it was only her way of putting it, and to be honest for any
reason, no matter how remote from the right one, was something.

"Anyhow, I hope she will think it's best policy to be nice to her poor,
hard-working mother," she thought indignantly.

But Adele had already passed out of the lives of the Wellington girls
and none of them ever saw her again. She did not return to college to
finish out the senior course, and the hoodoo suite was dismantled
forever of her fine trappings and furniture.

"I have one more good-bye to say, girls," said Molly to her friends a
little while before train time. "I'll meet you at the archway."

"You'll miss the train," called Nance.

"And that would just spoil everything," cried Judy.

The three friends had planned to travel as far as Philadelphia together.
There Nance would leave them to join her father, and Molly and Judy
would continue their journey toward Kentucky.

But Molly was already running down the corridor, suitcase in one hand
and jacket in the other.

Down the steps she flew and out into the court toward the little door
which opened into the cloisters. Another dash and she was knocking on
Professor Green's door.

"Come in," he called, and she flew into the room breathlessly.

"I came to say good-bye again," she said. "I've only five minutes."

"Sit down," he said, drawing up a chair.

"I wanted to ask you," she went on, "if you wouldn't come to Kentucky to
visit us this summer and--and see your property."

"How do you know it would be convenient for your mother to have me?"

"Because it is always convenient for mother to entertain friends, and
this is really her very own suggestion. Ou