ng that set their blood racing was the thought of what was in
store for them after they had gained their freedom. Connie Danvers had
given the girls an invitation to visit during their vacation her father's
bungalow on Lighthouse Island, a romantic spot off the Maine coast.

The prospect had appealed to the girls even in the dead of winter; but
now, with the sweet scent of damp earth and flowering shrubs in the air,
they had all they could do to wait at all.

The chums had written to their parents about spending their vacation on
the island, and the latter had consented on one condition. And that
condition was that the girls should make a good record for themselves at
Three Towers Hall. And it is greatly to be feared that it was only this
unreasonable--to the girls--condition that kept them at their studies at
all.

It was Saturday morning, and Billie, all alone in one of the study halls,
was finishing her preparation for Monday's classes. She always got rid of
this task on Saturday morning, so as to have her Saturday afternoon and
Sunday free. She had never succeeded in winning Laura and Vi over to her
method, so that on their part there was usually a wild scramble to
prepare Monday's lessons on Sunday afternoon.

As Billie, books in hand and a satisfied feeling in her heart, came out
of the study room, she very nearly ran into Miss Arbuckle. Miss Arbuckle
seemed in a great hurry about something, and the tip of her nose and her
eyes were red as though she had been crying.

"Why, what's the matter?" asked Billie, for Billie was not at all tactful
when any one was in trouble. Her impulse was to jump in and help, whether
one really wanted her help or not. But everybody that knew Billie forgave
her her lack of tact and loved her for the desire to help.

So now Miss Arbuckle, after a moment of hesitation, motioned Billie into
the study room, and, crossing over to one of the windows, stood looking
out, tapping with her fingers on the sill.

"I've lost something, Billie," she said, without looking around. "It may
not seem much to you or to anybody else. But for me--well, I'd rather
have lost my right hand."

She looked around then, and Billie saw fresh moisture in her eyes.

"What is it?" she asked gently. "Perhaps I--we can help you find it."

"I wish you could," said Miss Arbuckle, with a little sigh. "But that
would be too good to be true. It was only an old family album, Billie.
But there were pictures in it tha