"It only remains to break the news to the others," thought Molly, but she mercifully determined to wait until after the mid-year examinations. She was very modest regarding her popularity, but she was pretty sure that Judy's highly emotional temperament might work itself into a fever from such a shock. Remembering her last year's experience at mid-years, Molly guarded her secret carefully until after the great crisis. At last, however, the fateful moment came. All the Queen's circle was gathered in that center of hospitality in which Molly had spent so many happy months. The walls never looked so serenely blue as on that bright Sunday morning in January, nor the Japanese scroll more alluring and ornamental. A ray of sunlight filtering through the white dimity curtains cast a checkered shadow on the antique rug. Even the imperfections of the old room were dear to Molly's heart now that she must leave them forever; the spot in the ceiling where the roof had leaked; the worn place in the carpet where they had sat around the register, and the mischievous chair with the "game leg" which precipitated people to the floor unexpectedly. Everybody was in a good humor. "There are no shipwrecks on the strand this year," Margaret Wakefield was saying. "Everybody's safe in harbor, glory be." "Even me," put in Jessie meekly. "I never thought I'd pull through in that awful chemistry exam., and I was morally certain I'd flunk in math., too. I'm so afraid of Miss Bowles that my hair stands on end whenever she speaks to me." "She is rather formidable," said Edith Williams. "Why is it that Higher Mathematics seems to freeze a body's soul and turn one into an early Puritan?" "It simply trains the mind to be exact," said Margaret, who always defended the study of mathematics in these discussions. "And exactness means sticking to facts, and that's an excellent quality in a woman." "Meaning to say," broke in Katherine Williams, "that all un-mathematical minds are untruthful----" "Nothing of the sort," cried Margaret hotly. "I never made any such statement. Did I, girls? I said----" There was a bumping, tumbling noise in the hall. Judy, the ever-curious, opened the door. "The trunks are here, Miss," called Mr. Murphy, "and sorry we are to lose you, the old woman and I." "Thank you, Mr. Murphy," answered Molly. "Well, for the love of Mike," cried Judy, turning around and facing Molly. "What are you talking about?" "I'm not talking about anything," answered Molly, trying to keep her voice steady. "Did you flunk in any of the exams., Molly Brown?" asked Edith in a whisper. "No," whispered Molly in reply. It was going to be even worse than she had pictured to herself. "No," she repeated. A pulse throbbed in her throat and made her voice sound all tremolo like a beginner's in singing. "I waited to tell you until after mid-years. I'm not going very far away--only to O'Reilly's."