efully and her thoughts tortured her like
searing irons. In all her life Gladys had never done the hard
thing when there was an easier alternative, and the struggle
between the two forces in her was a mortal one. But the constant
example of unselfishness which the girls had set for her all
summer had had its effect, and by morning the balance had swung
over to the side of self-sacrifice, and she was fully resolved to
write the letter which would make her father despise her. She
rose as soon as it was light, brought out her writing materials,
and with an unfaltering pen wrote the sentences which branded her
with dishonor. It was the most difficult letter she had ever
written, but she kept on steadily to the end, and sealed and
addressed it as the rising bugle blew.

When it was all over a load seemed lifted from her heart, and
breakfast was the jolliest meal she had eaten for some time. For
the last three days her meals had been nightmares. The happy
chatter of the girls nearly maddened her when she thought that it
would soon be hushed and she had done the deed which was to
silence it. She could not look a single girl in the face and her
food choked her. But this morning all that was over. She joined
in making plans for future trips with enthusiasm, for she felt
that she had a right to. Whatever would be the consequences of
her confession to her father, all the suffering would be borne by
her alone, and she had nothing more on her conscience. Feeling
curiously light-hearted, she ran down to the dock to give the
letter to the steamer captain.

Nyoda had already received the incoming mail and was distributing
it. "Here, Gladys, something for you," she said, handing her an
envelope. At the sight of it Gladys stood as if rooted to the
dock. It was the very letter she had written to her father on
that memorable afternoon. It had missed her father in his
travels and been returned to her.

"What's the matter, Gladys, have you seen a ghost?" asked
Hinpoha, as Gladys stood staring open-mouthed at the envelope.

"Nothing," said Gladys, and sped up the path clutching the two
letters in her hand. "I didn't deserve it," she panted, as she
reached the shelter of the woods. "Some good angel had me under
its wing that time for sure." She tore both letters into bits
and then burned them and scattered the ashes to the winds. Then
taking her knife she cut a letter L in the bark of the tree under
which she stood, and