She now stared at Mignon's irregular, disjointed writing, which in some curious way suggested the girl's elfish personality, with unhappy eyes. Just what did Mignon mean by intimating that several persons were "going to be surprised" when to-morrow's practice game was over? It sounded like a threat. No doubt it was. Suppose--some one were to be hurt through this tricky playing of Mignon's team! Suppose that some one were to be Marjorie! Mary shuddered. She remembered once reading in a newspaper an account of a basket-ball game in which a girl had been tripped by an opponent and had fallen. That girl had hurt her spine and the physicians had decreed that she would never walk again. Mary put her hands before her eyes as though to shut out the mental vision of Marjorie, lying white and moaning on the gymnasium floor, the victim of an unscrupulous adversary. What could she do? She could not warn Marjorie to be on her guard. She had now passed out of her former chum's friendship of her own free will. She could not go privately to Muriel or Susan or the other members of the team. No, indeed! Yet, somehow, she must convey a message of warning. Seized with a sudden impulse to carry out her resolve, she picked up a pencil and began to scrawl on a bit of paper in a curious, back-handed fashion, quite different from her neat Spencerian hand. Over and over she practiced this hand on a loosened sheet from her note-book. At length she rose and, going to her chiffonier, took from the top drawer a leather writing case. Tumbling its contents hastily over, she selected a sheet of pale gray paper. There was a single envelope to match. Long it had lain among her stationery, the last of a kind she had formerly used. She was sure Marjorie had never seen it, so if it fell into her hands she could not trace it to her. Once more she practiced the back-handed scrawl. Then, with an energy born of the remorse which was to serve as a continual penance for her folly, she wrote: "TO THE SOPHOMORE TEAM: "Be on your guard when you play to-morrow. If you are not very careful you may be sorry. Beware of 'tricks.' "ONE WHO KNOWS." Folding the warning, Mary slipped it into its envelope. But now the question again confronted her, "To whom shall I send it?" After a moment's frowning thought she decided upon Harriet Delaney as the recipient. But dared she trust it to the mail service? Suppose it were not delivered until afternoon? Then it would be too late. The Delaneys lived only two blocks further up the street. It was not yet ten o'clock. Mrs. Dean had gone to a lecture. Marjorie was in her room. If she met General she would merely state that she was going to post a letter. That would be entirely true. She would run all the way there and back. Once she had reached Harriet's house she must take her chance of being discovered.