"How do you do, Julia?" she said, walking over to the bed and holding out her hand to the invalid.

"Not very well," responded Julia hoarsely. "I have a bad cold and am too weak to be up."

"I'm sorry," said Grace, "the wetting didn't hurt me in the least. But, of course, I wasn't in the water like you were. It didn't hurt Tom, either."

"I'm glad you are both all right," said Julia.

She looked solemnly at Grace, and then said hesitatingly, "Grace, I didn't deserve to be rescued the other day. I've been awfully mean to you." She buried her face in the bed clothing and sobbed convulsively.

"Julia, Julia, please don't cry," said Grace, her quick sympathy aroused by the distress of another. "Did you think we would leave you to drown? You would have done the same for me. Don't you know that people never think of petty differences when real trouble arises?"

"Bring that chair over and sit down beside me, Grace. I want to tell you everything," she said. "Last year I was perfectly horrid to you and that little Pierson girl, for no earthly reason either, I thought it was smart to annoy you and torment you. After we had the quarrel that day in the gymnasium, I was really angry with you, and determined to pay you back.

"You know, of course, that I purposely tripped you the day of the basketball game. I was awfully shocked when I found you had sprained your ankle, but I was too cowardly to confess that I did it. Miss Thompson would have suspended me from school. I didn't know whether you knew that I had done it until I met you that day in the corridor, and the way you looked at me made me feel miserable. Then we got hold of your signals."

She paused.

Grace leaned forward in her chair in an agony of suspense.

"Julia," she said, "I don't care what you did to me; but won't you please say that Anne didn't give you those signals?"

"Miss Pierson did not give them to me," was the quick reply.

"Yes, I heard that she did," said Julia. "The list was given to me, but I am not at liberty to tell who gave it. It was not your Anne, although I was too mean to say so, even when I knew that she had been accused. I'll write you a statement to that effect if you want me to do so. That will clear her."

"Oh, Julia, will you truly? I want it more than anything else in the whole world. A statement from you will carry more weight with the girls than anything I could possibly tell them. It will convince the doubters, you know. There are sure to be some who will insist on being skeptical."

Acting under Julia's direction, Grace brought a little writing case from a nearby table, Julia opened it, selected a sheet of paper and wrote in a firm, clear hand:

"To the members of the sophomore class, and to all those whom it may concern:

"The accusation made against Anne Pierson last fall regarding the betrayal of the basketball signals to the junior team is false. Our knowledge of these signals came from an entirely different source.

"And now," concluded Julia, "I have done something toward straightening out the mischief I made. Will you forgive me, Grace, and try to think of me as your friend?"

"With all my heart," replied Grace, kissing her warmly. "And I am so happy to-day. Just think, the junior and sophomore classes will be at peace at last."

The two girls looked into each other's eyes, and both began to laugh.

"After two years' war the hatchet will be buried," said Julia a little tremulously.

"Oh, Julia!" exclaimed Grace, hopping about, "I've a perfectly splendid idea!"

"What is it?" asked Julia breathlessly.

"Let's have a grand blow out and bury the hatchet with pomp and ceremony. We'll have speeches from both classes, and a perfectly gorgeous feed afterwards. You break the news to your class and I'll endeavor to get my naughty children under control once more. I believe some of them love me a little yet," she smiled.

"Of course, they do," said Julia stoutly. "I must say I don't see why they were so hateful to you, even if Anne Pierson were under suspicion. I know I am to blame for helping the grudge along," she added remorsefully, "but I am, not the only one."

Julia nodded. She did, indeed, understand, and the full beauty of Grace Harlowe's nobility of spirit was revealed to her.

"You are the finest, squarest girl I ever knew, Grace," she said admiringly.

"Nonsense," laughed Grace, flushing a little at the tribute paid her by the once arrogant junior captain. "You don't know me at all. I have just as many faults as other girls, with a few extra ones thrown in. I have no claim to a pedestal. I hope we shall be friends for the rest of our schooldays and forever after. You will be a senior next year, and I shall be a junior. It's time we put by childish quarrels, and assumed the high and mighty attitude of the upper classes. It is our duty to become a living example to erring freshmen."

Both girls laughed merrily; then Grace rose to go. She kissed Julia good-bye and walked out of the house as though on air. Her cup of happiness was full to the brim. She carefully tucked the precious paper away in her bag and sped down the street on winged feet.

"I'll make her tell it," said Nora, and ran after Grace. But just then the gong sounded and recess was over.

As soon as school was dismissed for the day, the entire sophomore class crowded into the locker-room. They were curious to know what was in the wind. Every member was present, and Grace felt a secret satisfaction when Miriam Nesbit, looking rather bored, sauntered in.

There was a confused murmur of voices. The girls chattered gayly to each other, as they waited for some one to call the meeting to order. When Grace left the corner where she had been standing with her three friends, and stood facing her classmates, the talking instantly ceased.

"Girls," she said, "I suppose you wonder who called this meeting, and why it was called? I wrote the notice you all read this morning. I have something to tell you which I hope you will be glad to hear."

"At the beginning of the school year, some things happened that caused unpleasant suspicions to rest upon a member of our class. You all know who I mean. It has caused her and her friends a great deal of unhappiness, and I am glad to be able at last to bring you the proof that she has been misjudged."

"Just as I suspected," thought Grace, "she really did have a hand in that signal affair."

Then she continued.

"A few days ago I had occasion to call upon the junior captain, Miss Crosby. While there, she assured me that the juniors did receive our signals, but that Miss Pierson had absolutely nothing to do with the matter. I was not sure that you would care to take my word, alone, for this"—Grace couldn't resist this one tiny thrust—"so she very kindly gave me the assurance in writing, signed by herself."

Grace then unfolded the paper and in a clear voice read Julia's statement.

There was not a sound in the room. Grace stood waiting. She had done her part, the rest lay with her classmates.

Nora and Jessica had their arms around Anne, who had begun to cry quietly. The relief was so great that it had unnerved her. Then Marian Barber sprang to Grace's side and seized her by the hand.

"Oh Marian, please don't," begged Grace, rosy with confusion.

But the girls cried in chorus, "Tell us, Marian! Don't mind Grace!"

When Marian had finished many of the girls were in tears. They crowded around Anne and Grace vying with each other in trying to show their good will. Then Eva Allen proposed three cheers for Grace and Anne.

They were given with a will. The noise of the ovation bringing one of the teachers to the door with the severe injunction, "Young ladies please contain yourselves. There is too much noise here."

The girls dispersed by twos and threes, until Marian Barber and the chums were the only ones left.

"I have a motto," said Marian, "that I shall bring here to-morrow and hang in the locker-room. If I had paid more attention to it it would have been better for me."

"Wait and see," replied Marian. "Oh, it's a good one, and appropriate, too."

After saying good-bye to Marian the four chums walked on together.

"Are you happy, Anne, dear?" said Grace, slipping her hand into Anne's.

Anne looked up at Grace with a smile so full of love and gratitude that Grace felt well repaid for all she had endured for friendship's sake.

"Everything has turned out just like the last chapter in a book," sighed Nora with satisfaction "The sinner—that's Julia Crosby—has repented, and the truly good people—Anne and Grace—have triumphed and will live happy forever after."

The girls laughed at Nora's remark.

"Now I can go on planning for our big game without being afraid that the girls will stay away from practice and do things to annoy and make it hard for me," said Grace happily. "I know that we shall win. I feel so full of enthusiasm I don't know what to do. Oh, girls, I forgot to tell you that Julia Crosby and I have a perfectly splendid plan. But I promised not to say anything to anyone about it until she comes back to school."

"By the way, girls!" exclaimed Nora, "what became of Miriam? I saw her enter the locker-room, but she wasn't there when Marian Barber began her speech. I know she did not remain, because I looked for her and couldn't find her."

"I saw her go," said Grace quietly, "That is the only part of this story that doesn't end well. She doesn't like Anne or me any better than before and never will, I'm afraid. She influenced the girls against us, after the first game, and you remember what she said at the basketball meeting, don't you, Nora?"

"Yes," responded Nora, "I do, and if she hadn't been David's sister I would have told her a few plain truths, then and there."

"I said at the beginning of the year that I believed Miriam had a better self," said Grace thoughtfully. "I still believe it, and I am not going to give her up yet."

"I don't envy you the task of finding it," said Jessica.

"I wonder what Marian Barber's motto is?" mused Anne. "She said it would be a good one."

"Oh, girls," cried Nora suddenly. "I have a half a dollar."

"Really?" said Jessica. "I didn't suppose there was that much money in Oakdale."

"My sister gave it to me this morning," Nora went on, ignoring Jessica's remark. "I am supposed to buy a new collar with it, but if you are thirsty——"

"I am simply perishing with thirst," murmured Grace.

Five minutes later the four girls were seated in the nearest drug store busily engaged with hot chocolate, while they congratulated Nora on having spent her money in a good cause.

"The field back of the Omnibus House is an ideal place for the burial," Julia told Grace. "It was there that the 'Black Monks of Asia' held their revel and were unmasked by the freshmen. Besides, it's quiet and we shan't be disturbed."

Grace agreed with her, and the two girls outlined the proceedings with many a chuckle.

The junior and sophomore classes had been requested to go directly to the Omnibus House.

"It would be great to have both classes march out there, but we should have the whole of Oakdale marching with us before we arrived at the sacred spot," observed Grace, with a giggle.

Julia planned rapidly and well. Grace listened attentively. The junior captain had remarkable energy. It was easy to see why Julia had always headed her class. Julia in turn, was equally impressed with Grace's ability. A mutual admiration society bade fair to spring up between the two, so recently at swords' points.

On Saturday the weather left nothing to be desired. It seemed like a day in late spring, although it was in reality early March. At one o'clock precisely the two classes, with the exception of one member, assembled. Julia Crosby acting as master of ceremonies, formed the classes in two lines, and marched them to the middle of the field. Here, to their complete mystification, they saw a large hole about four feet in depth had been dug.

"Who on earth dug that hole, and what is it for?" inquired a curious sophomore.

"Hush!" said Julia Crosby reverently. "That is a grave. Be patient. Curb your rising curiosity. Soon you shall know all."

"Assistant Master Harlowe, will you arrange the esteemed spectators, so that the ceremony may proceed?"

"The sophomores will now sing their class song," directed the master of ceremonies.

When the sophomores had finished, the juniors applauded vigorously. The juniors' song was next in order and the sophomores graciously returned the applause.

"I will now request the worthy junior members Olive Craig, Anne Green and Elsie Todd, to advance. Honorable Assistant Master Harlowe, will you name your trusted followers?"

Grace named Nora, Jessica and Marian Barber who came to her side with alacrity.

"During the brief space of time that we are obliged to absent ourselves, will every guest keep her roving eyes bent reverently on the ground and think about nothing. It is well to fittingly prepare for what is to come."

With this Julia marched her adherents down the field and around the corner of the Omnibus House. She was followed by Grace and her band. There was a chorus of giggles from the chosen helpers that was sternly checked by Julia.

There was a smothered laugh from Nora, whose quick brain had grasped the full significance of the thing.

"This is not an occasion for levity," reprimanded Grace sternly. "Laughing will not be tolerated."

Three twisted ribbon handles of sophomore colors and three of junior ornamented either side of the box. Each girl grasped a handle.

"We will proceed with the ceremony," directed Julia. "Lift up the box."

This was easier said than done. The handles were so close together that the girls hardly had room to step. The journey was finally accomplished without any further mishap than the sliding off of the wheat sheaf. This was hastily replaced by Jessica before its fall had been marked by the eagle eye of the master of ceremonies, who marched ahead with her assistant.

When the box had been carefully deposited at one side of the "grave," Julia Crosby took her place beside it, and assuming a Daniel Webster attitude began her address.

"Since the early days of our class history, war, cruel war, has raged between the august bodies represented here to-day. On this very field many moons ago the gallant sophomores advanced upon the, then, very fresh freshmen, but retreated in wild confusion. It is therefore fitting that this should be the place chosen for the burial of all grudges, jealousies and unworthy emotions that formerly rent our breasts."

Here Julia paused to take breath.

The girls cheered wildly.

Julia bowed right and left, her hand over her heart. When the noise had subsided, she continued. She bewailed junior misdeeds and professed meek repentance. She dwelt upon the beauty of peace and she begged her hearers henceforth to live with each other amicably.

"The hatchet is the symbol of war. The wheat-sheaf represents our elderly grudge; but the immortelles are the everlasting flowers of good will that spring from the planting of these two. We will now listen to a few remarks from the pride of the sophomore class, Assistant Master of Ceremonies Grace Harlowe."

Grace attempted to speak, but received an ovation that made her flush and laughingly put her hands over her ears. When she was finally allowed to proceed, she delivered an oration as flowery as that of the master of ceremonies.

When the cries of approbation evoked by Grace's oration had died away, it was announced that the "renowned elocutionist," Miss Anne Pierson, would recite a poem appropriate to the occasion. Anne accordingly recited "The Bridge of Sighs," done over by Julia Crosby, and beginning:

"Take it up gingerly;
Handle with care;
'Tis a relic of sophomore
And junior warfare."

"I think we had better wind up the ceremony," said Julia with great dignity. "These people will soon be beyond our control."

The attendants managed to straighten their faces long enough to assist in the concluding rites that were somewhat hastily performed, and the master of ceremonies and her assistants held an impromptu reception on the spot.

"Now," said Julia Crosby, "we have done a good day's work for both classes. I only hope that no prying freshmen hear of this. They will be sure to come here and dig up what we have gone to such pains to bury. They have no respect for their superiors. However, you have all behaved yourselves with true High School spirit, and I wish to announce that you will find a spread awaiting you around the corner of the Omnibus House."

There was a general hurrah at this statement, and the guests rushed off to the spot designated.

The money contributed by the classes had been used to good advantage by Grace and Julia, and piles of tempting eatables gladdened the eyes of the guests.

For the next half hour feasting was in order. Juniors and sophomores shared cups; as the supply of these were limited. At the end of that time the last crumb of food had disappeared and the girls stood in groups or walked about the field, discussing the various features of school life.

Some one proposed playing old-fashioned games, and soon "puss in the corner," "pom-pom-pull-away," and "prisoner's goal" were in full swing.

"This brings back one's Grammar School days, doesn't it?" said Nora to Grace. They were deep in a game of prisoner's goal, and stood for a moment waiting for the enemy to move toward them.

The hours slipped by on wings.

The start home was made about five o'clock. The juniors and sophomores trooped back to Oakdale arm in arm, singing school songs and making the welkin ring with their joyous laughter.

The people of Oakdale smiled at the procession of happy girls and wondered what particular celebration was in order.

When the center of town was reached the party broke up with a great deal of laughing and chattering, the girls going their separate ways in the best of spirits.

"I've had a perfectly fine time," declared Grace, as she said good-bye to her chums, "and how glad I am that we are all friends again."

"Be here early, girls," cautioned Grace, as they parted after school that day. "Perhaps we may get in a little practice before the people begin to come."

Grace hurried through her own dinner as fast as she could, on the eventful Saturday.

"I shall be glad when this final game is over, child," exclaimed Mrs. Harlowe anxiously, "I really think you have had more athletics this winter than has been good for you, what with your walking, and skating, dancing, and now basketball."

"You'll come, won't you, mother?" cried Grace, seizing her hat and rushing off without listening to Mrs. Harlowe's comments. "We are sure to win," she called as she waved her a good-bye kiss.

With trembling eagerness she was slipping on her gymnasium suit and rubber-soled shoes, when she suddenly remembered that she had left her tie in the geometry classroom. She had bought a new one the day before, placed it in the back of her geometry and walked out of the classroom, leaving book, tie and all behind.

"I'll run up and get it right away, before the others come," she said to herself.

Running nimbly up the broad stairway, she entered the deserted classroom and hurried down the aisle to the end of the room where she usually sat during recitation.

"Here it is," she murmured, taking it out of the book and tying it on. Then, sitting down at the desk, she rested her chin in her hands. The quiet of the place was soothing to her excited nerves, and since it was so early she would rest there for a moment and think.

Grace might have dreamed away five minutes when she heard the distant sound of voices below.

"Dear me," she exclaimed, laughing, "they'll scold me for not being on time. I must hurry." So she hastened up the aisle to the door, which was shut, although she had not remembered closing it after her.

Grace was so stunned that for a moment she hardly comprehended what had happened. She sat down and tried to collect her thoughts. Locked up in an upper classroom on the afternoon of the great game!

She tried the one other door in the room. It also was locked. As for the great windows, they were too large for her to push up without a pole.

"I'll try calling," she said. "They may hear me."

But her calls were fruitless, and beating and knocking on the door panels seemed nothing but muffled sounds in the stillness.

"Oh! Oh!" she cried, rushing wildly from doors to windows and back again. "What shall I do! What shall I do?"

In the meantime, it was growing late. The sophomores had assembled and were confidently waiting for their captain.

"She's late for the first time," observed one of the girls, "but we'll forgive her under the circumstances."

"Maybe she's in the gymnasium," suggested Anne, hurrying off to look for her friend. In spite of herself she felt some misgivings and she meant to lose no time in finding her beloved Grace.

"Where is Grace, Mrs. Harlowe?" Anne demanded eagerly.

"I don't know, dear," answered Mrs. Harlowe "She ate her dinner and went off in such a hurry that I hardly had time to speak to her. She told me she wanted to get back to meet the girls."

Anne ran back to the locker-room.

"Grace left home hours ago," she cried. "I just felt that something had happened."

Jessica opened Grace's locker.

"Grace must be in the building," she exclaimed "Here are her clothes."

The girls began to rush about wildly, looking for their captain in the various rooms on the basement floor.

In a few moments a junior came to the door.

"The game will be called in ten minutes," she said. "Are you ready?"

"Yes," answered Nora calmly. "Be careful," she whispered. "Don't let them know yet."

Anne ran again to the gymnasium.

David was sitting at one side of the gallery with Reddy and Hippy.

He looked very grave when Anne whispered the news to him. The place was packed with impatient spectators. The junior team was already standing on the floor talking in low voices as they waited impatiently for their opponents to appear at the opposite end.

"She must be somewhere in the building," David ejaculated. "That is if she has on her gymnasium suit. Have you looked upstairs yet?"

"No," replied Anne, "but we have been all through the downstairs' rooms."

As they ran up the steps they heard the shrill whistle that summoned the players to their positions.

"Come on," cried Nora. "Miriam, you will have to take Grace's place, and Eva Allen will substitute for you."

It still lacked a few moments of the toss up; the whistle having been blown sooner to hurry the dilatory sophomores, who seemed determined to linger, unaccountably, in the little side room.

A wave of gossip had spread quickly over the audience, that sat waiting with breathless interest for the appearance of the tardy sophomore.

What had happened? Had there been an accident?

No; it was all a mistake. There they were. And tremendous applause burst forth, which died down almost as soon as it had begun. Where was Grace Harlowe, the daring captain of the sophomore team, who had boasted that her team would win the game if it took their last breath to do it?

There was a great craning of necks as the spectators looked in vain for the missing Grace.

Hippy dropped his chin upon his breast disconsolately.

"I feel limp as a rag," he groaned. "Where, oh, where, is our gallant captain? I'll never believe Grace deserted her post."

"If I hung by this window sill," Grace said aloud, "I believe my feet would just reach the cornice of the second-story window."

Seizing a heavy ruler from one of the desks, she ran to the window and deliberately smashed out all the plate glass in the lower sash. Then, hoisting herself onto the sill, she looked down from what seemed to be rather a dizzy height. But nerve and determination will accomplish anything, and Grace turned her eyes upward.

"I shall do it," she kept saying to herself over and over.

With infinite caution, she gradually slipped along the ledge until she was kneeling. Resting her elbows on the stone shelf, she lowered herself to the next window sill. There she stood for a moment, looking in at the empty classroom.

The door into the corridor stood open, and as she clung to the narrow ledge, her face pressed against the window, she wondered how she was going to get in.

"Unless I butt my head against this plate glass," she exclaimed, "I really don't think I can make it. I can't kick in the glass, for fear of losing my balance."

Suddenly she heard her name called.

"Grace! Grace! Where are you?"

First it was David's voice, and then Anne's, and then the two together, echoing through the empty corridors and classrooms.

"I'm here," she answered. "Help! Help!"

Fortunately, they were passing the door at that instant and heard her muffled cries.

"Here," she cried again, and they saw her at last, clinging desperately to the window ledge.

Another instant, and Grace was crouching in a shower of broken glass, which fell harmlessly on her back and the top of her head. David knocked off the jagged pieces at the lower end, and Grace climbed nimbly over the sash.

"There's no time for explanations now," she cried. "I was mysteriously locked in. Has the game been called?"

David looked hurriedly at his watch.

"You have just a minute and a half," he exclaimed, and the three ran madly down the steps and into the gymnasium just as the whistle blew and the girls took their places.

But David, who had resumed his seat beside them, made no reply. He rose presently and went to find his sister, who was sitting somewhat apart from the other girls in gloomy silence.

"What's the matter with you, sister?" he asked gently. "You are not playing as well as usual. I expected you, especially, to do some fine work to-day. On the contrary, you have never played worse."

Miriam looked at her brother coldly.

"Why should I help them when they have dishonored me?" she demanded fiercely.

"How have they dishonored you, Miriam?" asked David.

"By making me the last in everything; putting me at the foot," she said, stifling a sob of anger.

David looked at his sister sorrowfully. He saw there was no reasoning with her in her present state of mind; yet knowing her revengeful spirit, he dreaded the consequences.

"You don't mean to say that it was you who——"

But he didn't finish. Instead, he turned on his heel and walked away. In one glance he had read Miriam's secret. Now he understood that look of wild appeal, baffled rage, mortification and disappointment, all jumbled together in her turbulent soul.

"Did she really want it so badly as all that?" he thought, "or was it only her insatiable desire never to be beaten?"

In the meantime, Grace, surrounded by a circle of her school-fellows, was telling them the history of her imprisonment. Miss Thompson and Mrs. Harlowe had made their way across the floor to the crowd of sophomores; Mrs. Harlowe to find out whether her daughter's cheek had been seriously cut, which it had not, and the principal to ask a few questions.

"Did it look like a trick, Grace?" she asked when she had heard the story.

"I hardly know, Miss Thompson. I feel certain that I left the door open when I went in. The janitress may have locked it without seeing me."

"You will have to send a bill to father for all the broken glass," laughed Grace. "I shouldn't have been here at this moment if I hadn't done some smashing."

Miss Thompson smiled.

"You were perfectly right to do it, my dear. It was an exhibition of good judgment and great courage. As for the bill, certainly the victim of an employé's stupidity should not be held accountable for costs. But we won't disturb you now with any more questions. You deserve to win the game and I hope with all my heart you will."

There was still a little time left and Grace determined to improve those shining moments by having a talk with Miriam.

Miriam never looked up when Grace approached her. Her dark brows were knit in an ugly frown and her eyes were on the floor.

"Miriam, aren't you glad I got out of prison in time?" asked Grace cordially.

"I suppose so," answered Miriam, looking anywhere but at Grace.

"Is there anything the matter with you to-day?" continued Grace.

"Your playing is not up to mark. The girls are very uneasy. Won't you try to do a little better next half?"

There was a childlike appeal in Grace's voice that grated so on Miriam's nerves, at that moment that she deliberately turned and walked away, leaving Grace standing alone.

"Wait a minute, Miriam," called Nora, who, with some of the other sophomores, had been watching the scene. "You aren't ill to-day, are you?"

"No," replied Miriam angrily.

"Because, if you are really ill, you know," continued Nora, "your sub. could take your place. Anna Ray can play a great deal better game than you played the first half."

Miriam turned on Nora furiously, and was about to make one of her most violent replies, when the whistle blew and the girls flew to their places.

Julia Crosby and Grace smiled at each other in the most friendly fashion as they stood face to face for the last time that season. There was nothing but good-natured rivalry between them now.

Grace managed to bat the ball as it descended in the direction of one of her eager forwards who tried for the basket and just missed it. The juniors made a desperate attempt to get the ball into their territory, but the sophomores were too quick for them, and Nora made a brilliant throw to goal that caused the sophomore fans to cheer with wild enthusiasm.

It was a game long to be remembered. Both teams fought with a determination and spirit that caused their fans in the gallery to shout themselves hoarse. The juniors made some plays little short of marvellous, and five minutes before the last half was over the score stood 8 to 6 in favor of the sophomores.

"This game will end in a tie if they're not careful," exclaimed Hippy. "No, Nora has the ball! She'll score if anyone can! Put her home, Nora!" he yelled excitedly.

Nora was about to make one of the lightning goal throws for which she was noted, when like a flash Miriam Nesbit seized the ball from her, and attempted to make the play herself. But her aim was inaccurate. The ball flew wide of the basket and was seized by a junior guard. The tie seemed inevitable.

Miss Thompson rose, thinking to call the house to order, but sat down again, shaking her head.

"They know what they are about," she said, for Grace herself did not know the game any better than the principal. "It was inexcusable of Miriam, inexcusable and intentional. In attempting to gratify her own vanity she has prevented her side from scoring at a time when all personal desire should be put aside. She really deserves it."

But the score was not tied after all, for the junior guard fumbled the ball, dropped it and before she could regain possession of it, it was speeding toward Marian Barber, thrown with unerring accuracy by Grace. Up went Marian's hands. She grasped it, then hurled it with all her might, straight into the basket. Five seconds later the whistle blew, with the score 10 to 6.

The sophomores had won.

The enthusiastic fans of both classes rushed out of the gallery and down the stairs to the gymnasium. Two tall sophomores seized Grace and making a chair of their hands, carried her around the gymnasium, followed by the rest of the class, sounding their class yell at the tops of their voices.

Miss Thompson made her way through the crowd to where Grace was standing in the midst of her admiring schoolmates. The principal took the young captain in her arms, embracing her tenderly.

Surely no one had ever seen Miss Thompson display so much unrestrained and candid emotion before. There were tears in her eyes, her voice trembled when she spoke.

"It was a great victory, Grace, I congratulate you and your class. You have fought a fine, courageous battle against great odds. Many another girl who had climbed out of a third-story window, without even a rope to hold by, would have little strength left to play basketball much less to win the championship. I am very proud of you to-day, my dear," and she kissed Grace right on the deep, red scratch that marred her cheek.

It was with difficulty that Grace extricated herself from her admiring friends and, accompanied by her chums, made for the locker room to don street attire.

Now that it was all over the reaction had set in, and she began to feel a little tired, although she was almost too happy for words. She walked along, dimly alive to what the girls were saying.

Nora was still upset over Miriam Nesbit's lawless attempt to score, and sputtered angrily all the way down the corridor. "I should think Miriam Nesbit would be ashamed to show her face in school, again, after this afternoon's performance," Nora declared.

"Did you see what David did?" queried Jessica.

"Yes, I did," said Anne.

"What was it?" asked Grace, coming out of her day dream.

"The minute the girls began to hiss Miriam, he got up and walked out of the gymnasium," Jessica replied. "I believe he was so deeply ashamed of what she did that he couldn't bear to stay."

"I thought I left it open," mused Grace, "but I might have unconsciously pulled it to."

"It is very strange," replied Anne, in whose mind a vague suspicion had taken root. Then she made a mental resolve to do a little private investigating on her own account.

When Grace reached home that night she found two boxes awaiting her.

"Oh, what can they be?" she cried in great excitement, for it was not every day that she found two imposing packages on the hall table, at the same time, addressed to her.

"Open them and see, little daughter," replied Grace's father, pinching her unscratched cheek.

The one was a large box of candy from her classmates, the contents of which they helped to devour the next day.

The other box held a bunch of violets and lilies of the valley. In this were two cards, "Mrs. Robert Nesbit" and "Mr. David Nesbit."

The days sped swiftly by, and spring came with her wealth of bud and bloom. During the long, balmy days Grace inwardly chafed at schoolbooks and lessons. She wanted to be out of doors. As she sat trying to write a theme for her advanced English class, one sunny afternoon during the latter part of April, she glanced frequently out the window toward the golf links that lay just beyond the High School campus. How she wished it were Saturday instead of only Wednesday. That very day she had arranged to play a game of golf with one of the senior class girls, who had made a record the previous year on the links. Grace felt rather flattered at the notice of the older girl, who was considered particularly exclusive, and rarely if ever paid any attention to the lower class girls. She had accidentally learned that Grace was an enthusiastic golfer, and therefore lost no time in asking her to play.

"I was awfully surprised when she asked me to play," confided Grace to her chums on the way home from school that afternoon.

"Please remember when you are basking in the light of her senior countenance that you once had friends among the sophomores," said Nora in a mournful tone.

"I consider both those remarks verging on idiotic," laughed Grace. "Don't you, Anne?"

"Certainly," replied Anne. "But let me add a word of caution. Don't allow this mark of senior caprice to turn your head. Remember you are——"

"You're worse than the others," cried Grace, "Let's change the subject."

Saturday proved a beautiful day, and with a light heart Grace started for the links with her golf bag strapped across her shoulder. The senior whose name was Ethel Post, sat waiting for her on one of the rustic benches set under a tree at one side of the starting place. She greeted Grace cordially and the two girls set to work without delay to demonstrate their prowess as golfers. The caddies, two small boys of Oakdale, who could be hired at the links by anyone desiring their services, carried the girls' clubs and hunted lost balls with alacrity.

Miss Post found that Grace was a foeman worthy of her steel. The young girl's arm was steady, and she delivered her strokes with decision. Grace came out two holes ahead.

"I am fond of all games and outdoor sports," replied Grace, "but I like basketball best of all. Did you attend any of our games during the winter, Miss Post?"

"No," answered the senior. "I am not much interested in basketball. I really paid no attention to it this year, and haven't attended a game since I was a freshman. Speaking of basketball," continued Miss Post, "I picked up a paper last fall with a whole lot of basketball plays written on it. It was labeled 'Sophomore basketball signals,' and I turned it over to one of the girls in your class. She happened to be on the team, too, and seemed very glad to get it. I presume it was hers, although she didn't say so."

At the mention of the word signals, Grace pricked up her ears. As Miss Post innocently told of finding the list, Grace could hardly control herself. She wanted to get up and dance a jig on the green. She was about to learn the truth at last.

Trying to keep the excitement she felt out of her voice, Grace asked in a low tone, "Whom did you return it to, Miss Post?"

"Quite true," Grace replied, but she thought to herself that a great deal of unhappiness might have been avoided if Miss Post had only forgotten.

The talk drifted into other channels. Miss Post told Grace that she expected to sail for Europe as soon as school was over. In the fall she would return and enter Wellesley. She had crossed the ocean once before, and had done the continent. This time she intended to spend all of her time in Germany. Grace decided her new acquaintance to be a remarkably bright girl. At any other time she would have listened to her with absorbed interest, but try as she might, Grace could not focus her attention on what was being said. One thought was uppermost in her mind, that Miriam was the real culprit.

"Well," began Grace, "you know I went over to the golf links to-day with Ethel Post of the senior class."

Anne nodded.

"We were sitting on a bench resting after the game, and the subject of basketball came up. Before I knew it, she was telling me all about finding the list of signals you lost last fall. She gave them to one of our class, you can guess who."

"Miriam," said Anne.

"Yes, it was Miriam. I always suspected that she had more to do with it than anyone else. She gave Julia the signals, because she wanted to see me humiliated, and fastened suspicion on you to shield herself. She knew that I had boasted, openly, that my team would win. When Julia gave me the statement that cleared you in the eyes of the girls, she told me that she was under promise not to tell how she obtained the signals. But I'm sure she knew that I suspected Miriam. What do you think we ought to do about it?"

Grace looked anxiously at Anne.

Anne held up a curious scarab pin that Grace immediately recognized. It was one that Miriam Nesbit often wore, and was extremely fond of.

"It's Miriam's," gasped Grace. "I wonder why——" She stopped. The reason Miriam had not made her loss known was plain. She was afraid to tell where and when she had lost her pin.

"I see," said Grace slowly. "It looks pretty bad, doesn't it? But why didn't the janitress take it straight to Miss Thompson? That's what she usually does with articles she finds."

"For a minute I didn't know what to do. Don't you remember when Miriam first had it? She showed it to Miss Thompson, and Miss Thompson spoke of how curious it was. I knew that Miss Thompson would not be apt to forget it. I hurried up to her office and found her with the pin in her hand. She had sent for Miriam, but the messenger came back with the report that Miriam wasn't in school. She laid the pin down and said, 'What is it, Anne?' So I just asked her if she would let me have the pin. Of course, she looked surprised, and asked me if I knew to whom it belonged. I told her I did. Then she looked at me very hard, and asked me to tell her exactly why I wanted it. But, of course, I couldn't tell her, so I didn't say anything. Then she said: 'Anne, I know without being told why you want this pin. I am going to give it to you, and let you settle a delicate matter in your own way. I am sure it will be the right one.'"

"Anne Pierson, you bad child!" exclaimed Grace. "To think that you've kept this to yourself ever since the game. Why didn't you tell me?"

"It would do no good," said Grace dubiously. "She would simply laugh at us. I used to have dreams about making Miriam see the evil of her ways, but I have come to the conclusion that they were dreams, and nothing more."

"Let's try, anyway," said Anne. "David says she seems sad and unhappy, and is more gentle than she has been for a long time."

"All right, we'll beard the lion in her den, the Nesbit on her soil, if you say so. But I expect to be routed with great slaughter," said Grace with a shudder. "When do we go forth on our mission of reform?"

"We'll call on her to-morrow after school," Anne replied, "and don't forget that you once made the remark that you thought Miriam had a better self. You told me the day you read Julia Crosby's statement to the girls that you wouldn't give her up."

"So do I," responded Anne. "It's horrid to have to go to people and tell them about their misdeeds. I wouldn't propose going now if it weren't for David. He seems to think that she would be willing to behave if some one showed her how."

"All right," said Grace, "we'll go, but if we encounter a human tornado don't say I didn't warn you."