There were but twelve girls who went down from Dickinson to the Exeter game; but to the hundred yet remaining, it seemed as though the dormitories were vacant. Hester found the afternoon long. Her anger had passed. She was not sorry that she had spoken as she did, but that no results had come from her show of spirits. She was not in a mood to visit with the other girls. Her intimate friends had gone with the basket-ball team. No study hour was observed Friday evening. The parlors and library were open. Hester, from her room, could hear the sound of the piano and the school songs. Instead of enlivening her, it had the opposite effect.

The girls who went down to Exeter could not possibly return until Saturday evening. That meant another entire day alone. Hester did not like to think of that.

"I shall pack my suit-case and to-morrow morning, I shall ask Doctor Weldon to allow me to go to Aunt Debby."

The decision brought up her spirits. She immediately began to arrange her work. The books were put in order and a suit-case taken from the shelf in the closet.

"Aunt Debby said she would make new collars for my waists and change the sleeves." With this promise in mind, she selected the thin white waists which were showing signs of wear. Miss Richards and Miss Debby, with a few deft touches, would make these look almost as well as new.

In her rummaging, Hester had the same experience that Helen had had three weeks before. She went over the boxes for some article she needed. She discovered the little box hidden away in the corner. She opened it and exclaimed just as Helen had done.

"My pin! I had forgotten all about that. I think I shall wear it. It looks rather pretty against a white dress." Holding it up against her waist, she looked down upon it with satisfaction. It surely did look pretty, against the white! The little bit of cut glass scintillated like a bit of fire. Fastening it to her waist, she continued her work.

The next morning, she went down to breakfast wearing the pin. Mellie was at the table, and gave a look of surprise when Hester came in. After a time she turned to her and said: "Where did Helen find her pin? I am glad she has recovered it, for it was valuable in addition to being an heirloom."

"I did not know she had found it," said Hester. "She did not mention the matter to me."

"I thought—." Mellie hesitated and did not finish the sentence. Several times, Hester found her looking closely at her.

Hester was wearing a soft shirt-waist with a tie. The ends of the tie knotted in butterfly fashion had been caught together by the pin which was partly hidden by them.

Hester secured permission to visit her Aunt Debby. She was to go down on the ten o'clock car and return Monday morning in time for chapel. On her way to the car, she met Mellie, Berenice and several girls from the west dormitory.

"We'll walk with you to the triangle," said Berenice. "I do not know how we will put in our time to-day. It is certainly dull with the girls gone. I wonder how the game went last evening?"

"Didn't you hear?" asked one of the others. "They telephoned Miss Watson last evening. She's our hall-teacher and she told us at once. It was twenty to thirty in favor of Exeter."

"Exeter won!" cried Berenice. "It is poor management on someone's part. They never won a game from us before—not on such a score. Last year neither scored, and the year before Exeter was one goal ahead, and they would not have made that if the referee had not been partial."

"I am sorry. I was sure they would win," said Hester. They had come to the triangle, the place where the sloping walks meet at an angle.

"They would have won, too, if you had been there. You should have been. I, for one, was ready to revolt Wednesday morning, and the other girls would have stood by me. We would have done so if you would have shown any spirit; but you sat there as though the game were nothing to you."

Hester smiled but made no attempt to reply. She was learning to know Berenice and the danger of expressing one's opinion in her presence. Life at Dickinson was teaching her more than what lay between the covers of books. She was learning to meet people, to know them as they were, and to hold her tongue under provocation as she was doing now.

Berenice was not easily put aside. "Why, did you not show some spirit about it, Hester?"

"Spirit? Why should I? If Miss Watson and Helen thought Emma put up a better game than I, why should I complain?"

Berenice shrugged her shoulders. She was about to say more when Erma came down the dormitory steps and crossed the campus toward them. Her fair hair was piled high on her head in puffs and rolls. She was wrapped in a long garnet sweater. She looked like a crimson rose as she moved across the snow.

"Drop the subject," cried Berenice. "Here comes Erma. She takes exception to everything I say. One cannot express an opinion or offer a criticism in her presence unless one is taken to task."

"Perhaps it is just as well to let it drop," said Mellie gently. "It is only a game of basket-ball and not worth a heated discussion."

"Well, peaches," cried Erma cheerily accosting Hester. "Are you really going home? Won't your Aunt Debby be glad to see you. Tell her I send her a thousand hugs and a million kisses. How I wish I were going home to see that dear old daddy of mine. Girls, when you want to see the grandest man in the world, come home with me and I'll show you my daddy."

Berenice looked down over her nose.

"It is well to be satisfied," she said.

"It certainly is," replied Erma. "I am glad I am. There's not a father or mother better than mine and my friends are the best in the world. I wouldn't exchange them for millions."

She had come close to Hester, and encircling her with her arm, asked, "When are you coming back, peaches?"

"Monday morning. There comes my car now." She stooped to lift her suit-case which Marshall had brought down from her room and deposited at her feet. As she did so, the butterfly end of her tie fluttered, displaying her quaint pin whose setting gleamed like a spark of fire.

Its scintillation caught Erma's eye. She was about to remark concerning it, but stopped herself in time. But Berenice, who never let anything escape her, also caught the sparkle of the stone. More than that, she saw the expression which passed quickly over Erma's face, and she read it aright. She made no remark until Hester had boarded the car, had waved her good-byes and the car had disappeared down the bend of the road. Then turning, she slipped her arm into Erma's and Mellie's, and so walking between them, moved toward the building.

"Did you notice the pin Hester had on?" she asked suddenly.

Mellie was wise and did not answer. Erma, who was as transparent as a ray of light, grew confused and tried to cover it up by asking, "A pin? Did she have a pin on? I suppose she did. Girls generally wear pins of some sort."

Berenice shrugged her shoulders. "Yes; she had a pin on, Erma Thomas, and you observed it as well as I did. You know as well as I do whose pin it is."

"You are very much mistaken. I know nothing at all about it. I have nothing to do with other people's jewelry."

"You have with this. At least you spent hours in helping to look for it. It is that odd one which Helen Loraine wore and which so mysteriously disappeared."

"Any disappearance is a mystery. If I lose a collar button, it is a mystery to me. If it was not, I would know where it was. The things we don't know are always mysterious. If we know, then they are as plain as day."

"It seems strange it should disappear for three months and then Hester Alden have it on, especially when Helen Loraine is away."

"That is the very time you should wear other people's jewelry and clothes. When I am home I always wear my mother's best silk stockings and rustling petticoats when I know she's down in the city shopping. Of course I always ask her—when she comes back—and she never refuses me permission. She always says the same thing: 'Well, since you have them on—'"

Erma's attempts to lead the conversation away from Hester and the pin was without results. Berenice clung to the subject with a tenacity which would have been admirable had the thing been worth while.

"I understand you, Erma. You think just as I do, but you are afraid to say so. I suspected from the first where the pin went; but of course I did not say so."

"Do you not think it a wise course to follow now—to say nothing?"

"It is very different now. Before, I was merely suspicious. One may not make statements in mere suspicion. Now I have proofs."

"Proofs? Because Hester Alden has the pin on and Helen is away?"

"Let us walk along the edge of the river," said Mellie. She, too, meant to change the conversation. "I love the river when it is icebound. I should like to cross if I thought it were safe. But I fancy we had better not. We have had several days of thaw and that always rots the ice, and rotten ice is far more dangerous than thin ice."

"I intend to speak my mind," said Berenice. "Mellie and you are very much afraid you will express yourselves. You think as I do about the matter, but you will not say so. I cannot see the difference between thinking a thing and saying it outright."

"The best thing to do is not to think it," said Erma. She laughed long and loud and merrily. "That is quite an idea. After this, I shall not think things. Perhaps my brain will never wear out. Doesn't the physiology say that every thought wears away some of the gray cellular tissue? Thank goodness, no one can blame me for destroying mine. I am sure I never thought any of mine away." As she spoke a new thought came to her. "No doubt, Helen found her pin weeks ago and you are having your tempest in a tea-pot all for nothing."

Berenice had not thought of that possibility. This was an argument, she was not equal to and was the means of causing her to say no more on the subject.

She knew from experience that she could not talk with some of the girls. They had a sense of loyalty and honor which restrained them from discussing anyone who came under the name of friend.

Berenice was unfortunate in her disposition. She was not by nature honest or sincere, and she could not conceive of another's being so. When Erma and Mellie had refused to listen to her suspicions, she attributed not to their high sense of honor, but rather that they were deceiving her and would discuss the question between themselves.

Every girl in the hall understood Berenice. They were careful of their words while in her presence and they never repeated a tale that she carried to them. Many a time had they taken her to task, but she never profited by the lessons. When the girls spoke to her plainly, she put the fault on them instead of upon herself. Gradually the girls let her go her own way, gave no credence to her words and kept a bridle on their tongues, when Berenice was within hearing.

Yet, a word dropped here and there, will spring up and bear seed even though every one about knows it to be but a poisonous weed. Berenice dropped these seeds in plenty. A word fell here and there, although the hearers repudiated it, it yet made an impression, before any one was conscious that it was so. No one could trace the source from which it sprung, but the impression was strong throughout the hall that Hester Alden had taken Helen's valuable pin and had hidden it away for months, then at the first opportunity when Helen was at Exeter, Hester had worn it home.

Hester, wholly unconscious that her action might be misjudged or that it should be judged at all, had left the pin at the cottage with Aunt Debby. She had put it away in her own tiny bedroom. A feeling of pride had restrained her from wearing it at school. The other girls wore pins which were not make-believes and Hester did not like the idea of the odd metal and cut glass.

"Aunt Debby told me it was just a cheap little pin," she said to herself as she placed it away. "I shall always keep it because it was my mother's, but I shall not wear it. I do not feel just right wearing something which pretends to be something else."

When Hester returned to school Monday morning, more than one pair of eyes looked eagerly for her coming. Erma and Mellie were hoping that she would come in with the pin boldly in evidence, and thus put to rout the rumors which had crept into the hall. Berenice, too, watched for Hester's coming with a wholly different motive.

"If Hester Alden comes in to class and wears the pin when Helen is present, then of course nothing can be said. I shall believe it then that Helen found the pin and allowed Hester to wear it. But if Hester comes back without it, I shall draw my own conclusions, and I shall feel justified in doing so."

She did not dare to say this to Mellie, Erma, or the older girls. It was to Emma she spoke, and Emma being youngest of all, and new to school life, listened and believed.

Hester was expected on the eight o'clock car. It was not by chance that some of the girls lingered in the main hall at the time of her coming.

Marshall from the office window, saw the car coming in the distance and went down to the triangle to carry up Hester's baggage. The group of girls saw him and moved nearer to the door.

"The car is coming. Hester will be on it," said Berenice. Erma was in the little group. At the tone in Berenice's voice, Erma flushed. Like a flash there came to her a conception of the part she was playing in this. If she were Hester Alden's friend, she had no right to question her action and no right to wait at the door to find proof of her perfidy or her honesty. Erma raised her head proudly, "I think I shall not wait here. I shall see Hester later. The dear old honeysuckle that she is! I shall be glad to have her back. I missed her dreadfully these two days." She turned her back on the group and was about to walk away when Mellie moved forward and slipped her hand in Erma's arm. "I shall go with you," she said. Others, grasping the situation more clearly than they had before, followed the example of Erma. So it was, that only Berenice and two of the younger girls waited at the doorway.

But a few moments they stood there, when the door opened and Marshall ushered Hester into the hall.

"I shall take this case directly to your room, Miss Alden," said Marshall.

"Thank you, Marshall," cried Hester. She was her gay, bright self after her visit with Aunt Debby. Her eyes were sparkling and her cheeks bright. She turned to the girls who stood waiting for her. Ignorant of the motive which had brought them here to meet her, she greeted them affectionately.

"It was lovely of you girls to come down here to meet me. I had a lovely time with Aunt Debby. Yet I am glad to get back to school."

While she had been speaking, she had drawn off her gloves and had thrown back her coat. The girls had given no response to her greeting, but stood with their eyes fixed upon her. The exclamation which Berenice gave sounded much like one of exultation; for Hester Alden was not wearing a pin.

Hester felt conditions about her. She gave the three girls a quick hurried glance as though to grasp the intangible something which she felt. Then she continued her way down the corridor. Berenice was not easily offended. Catching step with Hester, she walked with her.

"Did you lose your pin, Hester?" she asked. "You had such a pretty pin on when you left school Saturday morning. I noticed at once that you didn't have it on now. Do you suppose you lost it?"

"No, I did not. I left it home purposely."

"Indeed. If I had such a pin I am sure I would wear it. There are only one or two girls in school who have diamonds. If I had a pin with a diamond in it, I am sure I'd be only too anxious to wear it."

"But that did not happen to be a diamond. It is a very cheap little pin which belonged to Aunt Debby—that is, it belonged to me, and I'd rather keep it than wear it."

Berenice gave her shoulders a shrug, lowered her eyelids until her eyes looked like little beads. She would prove to the girls that what she had said was true. Every one of Hester's friends had heard the report but had refused to discuss it. Erma laughed in derision at the mention of it. "Oh, you silly thing," she cried, "to come to me with such a story. Don't I know Hester better than that."

And Mellie, Mame, Renee, and Sara stopped the tale-bearers in their story. Yet while they tried to be true, in the heart of each one was a doubt. Had they not seen the pin many times? Had it not disappeared weeks and weeks ago; and had they not seen Hester wear it home, and that when Helen was absent? Proof was brought before them and they tried to ignore it. They tried to strengthen themselves in their position by believing that Helen had found the pin and had neglected to tell them.

Hester's friends would have let the matter pass, giving her the benefit of a doubt, but there was in school a different set who were easily influenced and stood ready to believe anything that was told them. This set with Berenice as instigator, took it upon themselves to ostracize Hester.

It was the custom of the students to loiter in the parlor after dinner, gathering about in groups. Someone talked; others drew about the piano; while others arm in arm walked up and down in confidential talk. One evening as Hester joined one of these groups, the talk ceased. There was an attempt to resume it, but it was fruitless. The group scattered, leaving Hester alone. This occurred several times. Hester was not supersensitive; neither was she dull. She knew that something had gone amiss, and that she had purposely been snubbed. But not by so much as a glance did she show that she was conscious of the treatment. She lingered a few moments longer, made a pretense of playing a piece and then went to her room and took up her books.

"They will not treat me so a second time," she said to herself. "They'll never have the satisfaction of knowing that I observed them."

It was all very well to speak bravely, but the sting was deep. She had determination and pluck enough not to bewail. She took up her lessons and vented her energy in getting them out.

She was not alone in observing the conduct of the younger set. The girls of her own hall had also seen what had taken place.

Not in this alone, did the younger girls express themselves. At recreation hour, which followed the evening study period, they were accustomed to gather in little groups in one of the rooms. At these times, the chafing-dish was brought into use, and the air was heavy with the odor of chocolate. By contriving, the younger set managed that Hester no longer made one of the party.

One evening, Erma and Mame took the girls to task on this matter. Emma and Louise expressed themselves strongly. Hester had been guilty of the greatest dishonesty and they meant to cut her dead.

"Are you taking it upon yourself to mete out judgment?" asked Mellie gently. "I should scarcely feel myself equal to such a great work. You are not sure that Hester is guilty. You are surmising. Who knows but Helen found the pin."

"I know," exclaimed Berenice. "I took it upon myself to ask her."

"You must have had—" Erma began with some show of feeling, but stopped herself suddenly and laughed instead. What was the use in turning the matter into a tragedy. "Well, if you begin to cut people, you little freshmen, bear in mind that other girls can do the same. Hester is my friend and will continue to be. If she is not treated as I am treated, then I am treated badly."

"It's a case of love me, love my dog, is it?" asked Berenice.

"It's a case of treat my friends as you treat me. If Hester is not at the next fudge party, then you may expect me to leave and furthermore, you need expect no invitation to any spreads that I have anything to do with."

She went her way. The younger girls shrugged their shoulders. It was considered very fine to be entertained by the seniors and to be accepted by them as friends. The freshmen who had been so favored did not wish to forgo these joys. On the other hand, they did not like the idea of giving up their independence and running at the beck and call of any senior.

Berenice's words about asking Helen in regard to finding the pin, had put Erma's convictions to rout. She tried to comfort herself in the thought that Berenice was not always reliable in her statements. It was sorry comfort at the best. A heroic course then presented itself to Erma. The thought no sooner presented itself to her than she determined to put it into play.

"This evening after study hour, I intend making some hot chocolate. Marshall shall buy me some nice fresh wafers when he goes down the street."

"Thank you, I shall be there," said Mame.

"No, you shall not. That is what I wish to speak to you about. The moment the half-hour bell rings, I wish you to go down to Hester Alden's room and I wish you to keep her there until I call to you and her to come. But not for worlds must you let her know that there has been anything premeditated about the affairs."

"Oh, not for the worlds," said Mame. "I do not quite grasp your idea, but I'll do as I am told though I die for it."

"You'll not die, Mamie. The good die young, so I see a long, long life for you. You will be rewarded for your goodness. I shall save the biggest cup for you and I'll fill it twice without so much as your hinting."

"I am your servant from henceforth. Two cups of cocoa to be had not for the asking, and big cups at that."

Promptly at the recreation hour, Mame hurried off to see Hester. There was something she wished done for the paper and Hester wrote so beautifully. Helen went away and left them. The sound of voices came up to them from Fifty-four.

"Erma asked me to come down for some hot chocolate," suggested Hester. But Mame refused to take the hint.

"Yes, she asked me too. She'll call us when it's ready. She knows that I am up here. Now, about this editorial. I'd rather write a novel than an editorial any time. In novels, something may be done; but in editorials, one must just think. Would you say this, Hester?"

She began her reading on an abstract subject which was a theme worthy of a logician and Hester was compelled to listen.

Meanwhile, down in Fifty-four, a number of girls had gathered. Erma was making good use of the chafing-dish while Renee was passing salt wafers and blanched almonds. Erma was laughing merrily, as she poured the cocoa. In the midst of her activities her brooch fell from her collar on to the table.

"Good thing, I heard it," she exclaimed, drawing the attention of the entire room to it. "If I had dropped it in the hall or on the campus, I might never have found it, just as you did, Helen. You never found your pin did you?"

"No," said Helen. Her reply was given curtly as though her mind were on other matters.

"I told you so," cried Berenice with a show of exultation, looking from one girl to another. They had become suddenly quiet at Helen's reply.

"I told you so," she repeated. Then turning to Helen, she continued. "I can tell you where it is. I saw it and so did several of the others. But they are afraid to tell."

"Not afraid," said Mellie gently. "Fear was not what kept us silent."

"Hester Alden knows where it is," continued Berenice. "While you were at Exeter, Hester went home. I met her in the hall and walked with her to the triangle. I saw the pin on her tie. It was partly hidden by the ends of her tie. When she came back, she did not have it with her. I was not the only girl who saw it. They all feel as I do about it. Hester Alden took your pin."

She looked about the room with an air of malicious triumph. What could the girls do or say now? The gauntlet had been thrown down and they could not fling it back. It must lie there, for Hester could not be defended. Gentle, soft-spoken Mellie arose to the occasion. "I hope you are happy now, Berenice," she said. "But I do not see how you can be after such an act. You have deliberately done what you could to ruin Hester's reputation and what have you gained by it? Nothing at all, except those who have heard, care just a little less for you."

During these remarks, Helen had sat silent on a heap of cushions piled high on the floor. At Berenice's first words, she had grown pale but she listened without a word. What could she say or do? While Mellie spoke, she decided the course she would take. If the girls misunderstood her meaning, well and good. She loved Hester. It was a queer worthless sort of love which would make no show of sacrifice for its object. She reasoned thus while Mellie was speaking. Then she looked from one girl to the other.

"What startling things you say, Berenice. What pin have you reference to?"

"Your heirloom with the diamond in it?"

"Oh, that," with an air of assumed indifference. "Is that the one that you have in mind? Yes, I found that three weeks ago. Where do you think I found it?" She looked about at the girls, but gave them no opportunity to answer. "I found it in a little box along with some other trinkets. The box had been put on the closet floor and got pushed back in the corner. I was hunting about for some hooks and eyes and came across it quite by accident."

A sigh of relief was felt. The girls had been sitting with every muscle rigid. Now, they relaxed and a buzz of laughter and talk began. Berenice was far more discerning than the other girls there. Something in Helen's manner was beyond her comprehension.

"Did you really know then that Hester Alden had your pin and was wearing it?"

Helen nodded brightly as she replied. No one noticed that she ignored the second question that Berenice had put to her.

"Why, certainly, I knew that Hester had it. You take up very strange ideas, Berenice. I'd put Hester and the pin from your mind from this minute. I give you my word of honor that I knew that Hester had the pin."

Erma laughed delightfully. Her voice ran the scale and came back with an echo of triumph in it. Her plan had succeeded beyond her most sanguine expectations.

"I have forgotten the girls," she said, "and the cocoa almost gone." Going to the hall, she called to Sixty-two. "Hester Alden, are you and Mame going to stay there all night? The bell will ring in a few moments, and you will have no chocolate."