“To-morrow you’ll be laughing up your sleeve, and saying what a splendid time you had. Besides, think what fun it’s been all along. We’ve fooled every one in school. No one has suspected a thing! And think of all the candy you’ve had. Of course, he’ll have another box to-night.” The unhappy Vivian dried her tears, but her face did not brighten. In fact, she did not look at all like a person who was about to enjoy a long-anticipated evening drive. “Imogene,” she said, and there was an unusual tone of self-assertion in her voice, which surprised her room-mate, “Imogene, I want you to know that a hundred boxes of candy don’t make one feel right inside.” While this conversation was taking place behind a closed door in The Hermitage, there was another person in the woods by the Retreat, who likewise did not feel right inside. The other person was Dorothy. She had declined Virginia’s and Priscilla’s invitation to go after violets, much as she would have liked to accept, in the hope of easing her conscience; curtly refused to walk with Imogene; and studiously sought to evade the accusing eyes of Vivian. Seizing her opportunity, she had run away from them all, and now sat alone under the pines by the Retreat, trying to think of a way out of her difficulty—a way that would save Vivian from the consequences of an act for which she was really not to blame. Ever since September Dorothy had sent her rootlets into the waste places of indolence and poor companionship; and now that she had truly resolved to change it seemed to her discouraged heart almost too late. She and Imogene were to blame for the situation which confronted her—not Vivian. Ever since the sallow, white-coated Leslie had entered the employ of the “Forget-me-not,” she and Imogene had directed susceptible Vivian’s attention toward his evident admiration. It was they who had all through the winter and early spring transported his gifts to Vivian; they, who, weary of the monotony which through idleness they made themselves, had seized upon Dorothy’s idea of a secret post-office; and finally, they who had proposed through the means of the post-office that the enamored Leslie take Vivian for an evening drive. Now the crisis was at hand, and what could she do to avert it?