Marjorie caught her arm. "I haven't any secrets that I wish to keep from you, Mary," she said with quiet dignity. "Last night at the dance Constance asked me to promise I wouldn't say anything to you about the trouble she had with Mignon La Salle during our freshman year. We were upstairs in her room. I was mending my flounce. It got torn when we were dancing. I had intended asking her permission then to tell you, and when she spoke of it first I hardly knew what to do. I didn't like to let her think that you were curious and----" "How dare you call me curious!" Mary stamped her foot in a sudden fury of temper. "I'm not. I wouldn't listen to your miserable secret if you begged me to. Now I truly believe what Miss La Salle told me. You and your friend Constance ought to be ashamed of the way you treated that poor girl last year. I'm sorry I ever came to your house to live. I'd write to Father to come and take me away, but Mother would have to know. She sha'n't be worried, no matter what I have to stand. You needn't be afraid, I'll not make a fuss, either, so that General and Captain will know. I'll try to pretend before them that we're just the same chums as ever, and you'd better pretend it, too. But we won't be. From to-day on I'll go _my_ way and choose _my_ friends and you can do the same." "Mary Raymond, listen to me." Marjorie's hands found the shoulders of her angry chum. The brown eyes held the blue ones in a long, steadfast gaze. "Mignon La Salle is only trying to make trouble. If you knew her as well as I know her, you wouldn't pay any attention to her. We've been best friends and comrades since we were little tots, Mary, and I think you ought to trust me. No one can ever be so dear to me as you are." "Except Constance Stevens," put in Mary sarcastically, twisting from Marjorie's hold. "Why, that very first day when you came to the train to meet me I could see you liked her best. You can imagine how I felt when even your friends spoke of it. If you really cared about me, you would have written to me of every single thing that happened last year. You promised you would. You are very anxious to keep a promise to Constance, but you didn't care whether you kept one to me. As for what you say of Miss La Salle, I don't believe you. I'd far rather trust her than your dear Miss Stevens!" "What has happened to my brigade?" called Mrs. Dean from the foot of the stairs. "It is five minutes to one, girls. Come to luncheon at once." "We are coming, Captain," answered Marjorie in as steady a tone as she could command. Then she said sorrowfully to her companion, "Mary, I feel just the same toward you as always, only I am terribly hurt. I wish your way to be my way and your friends mine. If you are sure that you would like Mignon for a friend, then I am going to try to like her for your sake. But we mustn't quarrel or--not--not speak--or--let General and Captain know--that----" Marjorie's words died in a half-sob.