Those who have followed Marjorie Dean through her freshman and sophomore years at high school are already familiar with the details of Mary’s and Marjorie’s first separation. In “Marjorie Dean, High School Freshman,” was recorded the story of the way in which Marjorie had come to leave her chum at the beginning of their first year in Franklin High School, in the city of B——, to take up her residence in the far-off town of Sanford, there to become a freshman at Sanford High. In her new home she had made many friends, chief among them Constance Stevens, to whom she had been greatly drawn by reason of a strong resemblance between Constance and Mary. In an earnest endeavor to bring sunshine to the former’s poverty-stricken lot she had thereby involved herself in a series of school-girl difficulties, which followed her throughout the year. True to herself, Marjorie met them bravely and conquered them, one by one, proving herself a staunch follower of the high code of honor she had adopted for her own. With the advent of Mary Raymond into her home for a year’s stay, Marjorie was confronted by a new and painful problem. “Marjorie Dean, High School Sophomore,” found Marjorie enmeshed in the tangled web which Mary’s jealousy of Constance Stevens wove about the three girls. Led into bitter doubt of Marjorie by Mignon La Salle, a mischief-making French girl who had made Marjorie’s freshman days miserable, Mary Raymond had been guilty of a disloyalty, which had come near to estranging the two girls forever. It was not until their sophomore year was almost over that an awakening had come to Mary, and with it an earnest repentance, which led to equity and peace. It was to this which Mary had been about to refer mournfully when Marjorie’s gentle hand had sealed her repentant utterance. All that summer the two girls had been earnestly engaged in trying to make up for those lost days. Constance and Mary were now on the most friendly terms. The three had spent an ideal month together at the seashore, with no hateful shadow to darken the pleasure of that delightful outing. Later Constance had left them to spend the remainder of her vacation with her family in the mountains. The Deans had lingered in their seaside cottage until the last of August. Now September had arrived, her hazy hints of coming Autumn reminding the world at large that their summer playtime was over. To Mary Raymond it was a pertinent reminder that her days under the Deans' hospitable canopy were numbered. In fact, only seven of them remained. On the next Friday morning she would say her last farewells to speed away to Denver, Colorado, where, on her invalid mother’s account, the Raymonds were to make their home. So it is scarcely to be wondered at that Marjorie and Mary were decidedly melancholy, as they sat hand in hand, bravely trying to meet the trial which lay before them.