Today, however, she had just chanced to learn of the house-party at Constance's home. She was not invited, and Margaret was! She was so full of wrath and indignation, that she forgot her usual caution. She commenced talking to her friends in a tone which would easily reach Margaret, and she contrived to put all the bottled up venom of the past term into her words. To all appearances Margaret heard not a syllable. Just as Constance and Dolly approached the library, Abby turned, not seeing them, addressing a remark directly to Margaret. Margaret turned toward her, a quiet scorn in her brown eyes. "Miss Dunbar, if you were unaware of some things when you invited me to your house, we are certainly quits, for I have since learned facts concerning your family which would have prevented my ever putting a foot inside your house had I known them before." CHAPTER XV She looked steadily at her classmate for a moment. Constance and Dolly had paused in the doorway. Margaret did not need their assistance. Something in Margaret's tone made Abby recoil with a sudden, inexplicable apprehension. Yet, after all, what could that girl say to hurt her--Abby Dunbar? "I believe that by this time you are all rather well posted on my family history. Consequently you know that my father was a West Point cadet, and but for a useless accident, caused by a drunken acquaintance, he would, in all probability, be alive today, and be an officer in the regular army. His health was ruined, his hopes in life destroyed, and himself and my mother forced into menial positions, because an acquaintance to whose home he had been invited, was too drunk to manage a yacht, and too drunk, also, to let anyone else take the management in his place. The boat capsized, as you know. The only person injured was my father. I had rather today," and Margaret's voice rang out clear and strong, "be his daughter--the daughter of an honest servant--than be what you are--the daughter of a man whose drunken folly wrecked the life of as good and noble a father as ever lived." There was a silence that made itself felt. "How dare you? It is not true! you know it is not true!" "I am not in the habit of telling falsehoods or of making statements about which I am not sure. Suppose you ask your father about the matter? He will, perhaps, enjoy telling you of it. Until a week ago, neither my mother nor I knew who your father was. You may be sure that, if I had known, there would have been no inducement strong enough to take me inside your home." Margaret turned to leave the library, and all her auditors became aware then, that Constance and Dolly had been standing in the doorway. Constance spoke a few low words to Margaret, took her arm, and, with Dolly following, walked down the hall. Abby watched them a moment, and then burst into a flood of tears. In her heart she had a terrible conviction that Margaret's story was true. She must write and ask, not her father, of course, but her older brother.