Marjorie returned to school that afternoon in a most perturbed state of mind, occasioned by Jerry Macy’s identification of Rowena Farnham as the girl whom she had assisted in the working out of the problem in quadratic equations. She was now almost certain that she had unwittingly assisted in a most dishonest enterprise. If the papers on Miss Archer’s desk comprised the trial examination to sophomore estate, then Rowena had no doubt been guilty of tampering with what should concern her only at the moment when the test began. If they were the sophomore examination papers, why had Miss Archer left them thus exposed on her desk? And now what was she, Marjorie, to do about it? She felt that when she delivered her mother’s note to Miss Archer, she ought to inform the principal of what had occurred during her absence. Yet she hated to do this. It was tale bearing. Besides, her suspicions might prove unfounded.

She was still juggling the trying situation when she entered Miss Archer’s office to deliver her captain’s note. Should she speak of it or not? The fact that Miss Archer was now accessible but extremely busy, with several girls occupying the office benches, caused her to put off her decision for a time. She stopped only long enough to receive a kindly welcome from the principal and to perform her mission as messenger. Then she went dejectedly to her recitation in civil government, wondering resentfully if the event of the morning was the beginning of an unpleasant year.

By a determined effort of will, Marjorie put the whole thing aside to attend strictly to her recitations. But during the study hour that preceded dismissal for the day, a way of settling the difficulty presented itself to her. It was not an agreeable way, but her straightforward soul welcomed it as a means toward settlement. She was resolved to seek Rowena Farnham and learn the truth. The question of where to find her was next to be considered. She had not yet made an appearance into the study hall. Doubtless she was in the little recitation room on the second floor that was seldom used except in the case of pupils with special examinations to try. Marjorie mused darkly as to whether the problem she had obligingly solved would figure in Rowena’s algebra paper.

Half-past three saw Marjorie on her way to the locker room, keeping a sharp lookout for a tall figure crowned with luxuriant auburn hair. Her vigilance met with no reward, however, and she left the school building in company with Irma, Jerry, Constance and Susan, deliberating as to what she had best do next. Outside the high school she caught no glimpse of her quarry among the throng of girls that came trooping down the wide stone steps. Although she took part in her friends’ animated conversation, she was steadily thinking of the self-imposed task that lay before her.

“Let’s go down to Sargent’s,” proposed Susan, gleefully jingling a handful of silver that clinked of sundaes and divers delicious cheer.

“You girls go. I can’t. I’ve an errand to do.” Marjorie’s color rose as she spoke.

“Do your errand some other time,” coaxed Susan. “I may not have any money to spend to-morrow.”

“I’ll treat to-morrow,” Marjorie assured her. “I can’t possibly put off my errand. You can imagine I’m with you. Always cultivate your imagination.”

Four voices rose to protest her decision, but she remained firm. “To-morrow,” she compromised. “Please don’t tease me. I can’t really go with you to-day.”

“We’ll try to get along without you, just this once,” agreed tactful Constance. Something in Marjorie’s manner told her that her friend wished to go on her way alone.

“Go ahead then, Marjorie. Do your errand, faithful child,” consented Jerry, who had also scented the unusual and shrewdly speculated as to whether it had anything to do with their conversation of the morning.

Anxious, yet regretful, to be free of her chums, Marjorie said good-bye and hurried off in an opposite direction. Jerry had said that the Farnhams lived in the beautiful residence that adjoined Mignon La Salle’s home. It was not a long walk, yet how Marjorie dreaded it. Given that Rowena were at home, Mignon would, perhaps, be with her. That would make matters doubly hard. Yet she could do no less than carry out the interview she felt must take place at the earliest possible moment.

It was a very grave little girl who opened the ornamental iron gate and proceeded reluctantly up the long driveway to the huge brown stone house, set in the midst of a wide expanse of tree-dotted lawn. For all the residence was a magnificent affair, Marjorie shivered as she mounted the massive stone steps. There was little of the atmosphere of home about it.

“Is Miss Rowena Farnham here?” was her low-voiced question of the white-capped maid who answered the door.

“She hasn’t come home from school yet, miss,” informed the maid. “Will you step into the house and wait for her?”

“Yes, thank you.” Marjorie followed the woman into a high-ceilinged, beautifully appointed, square hall and across it to a mammoth drawing-room, very handsomely furnished, but cheerless, nevertheless. She felt very small and insignificant as she settled herself lightly on an ornate gilt chair, to await the arrival of Rowena.

Her vigil was destined to be tedious, unbroken by the sight of anyone save the maid, who passed through the hall once or twice on her way to answer the bell. Even she did not trouble herself to glance through the half-parted brocade portieres at the lonely little figure in the room beyond. Consulting her wrist watch, Marjorie read five o’clock. She had been waiting for over an hour. She guessed that the girl on whom she had come to call must be with Mignon La Salle. There was at least a grain of comfort for her in this conjecture. If Mignon were at home now, there was small chance that she would be present at the interview.

An impatient hand on the bell sent a shrill, reverberating peal through the great house. An instant and she heard the maid’s voice, carefully lowered. There came the sound of quick, questioning tones, which she recognized. Rowena had at last put in an appearance. Immediately there followed a flinging back of the concealing portieres and the girl who had sprung into Marjorie’s knowledge so unbecomingly that morning walked into the room.

“You wished to see——Oh, it’s you!” The tall girl’s black eyes swept her uninvited guest with an expression far from cordial.

“Yes, it is I,” Marjorie’s inflection was faintly satirical. “I made a mistake about you this morning. I thought you were Miss Archer’s new secretary.” She lost no time in going directly to the point.

For answer Rowena threw back her auburn head and laughed loudly. “I fooled you nicely, didn’t I?” According to outward signs her conscience was apparently untroubled.

“Yes,” returned Marjorie quietly. “Why did you do it?”

Rowena’s laughing lips instantly took on a belligerent curve. The very evenness of the inquiry warned her that trouble was brewing for her. “See here,” she began rudely, “what did you come to my house for? I’m not pleased to see you. Judging from several things I’ve heard, I don’t care to know you.”

Marjorie paled at the rebuff. She had half expected it, yet now that it had come she did not relish it. At first meeting she had been irritated by the other girl’s almost rude indifference. Now she had dropped all semblance of courtesy.

“I hardly think it matters about your knowing or not knowing me,” she retorted in the same carefully schooled tone. “You, of course, are the one to decide that. What does matter is this—I must ask you to tell me exactly why you wished me to work out that quadratic problem for you. It is quite necessary that I should know.”

“Why is it so necessary?”

“Because I must believe one of two things,” was Marjorie’s grave response. “I must have the truth. I won’t be kept in the dark about it. Either you only pretended to play secretary as a rather peculiar joke, or else you did it purposely because——” She hesitated, half ashamed to accuse the other of dishonesty.

“What will you do if I say I did it on purpose?” tantalized Rowena. “Go to your Miss Archer, I suppose, with a great tale about me. I understand that is one of your little pastimes. Now listen to me, and remember what I say. You think I was prying into those examination papers, don’t you?”

“I’d rather not think so.” Marjorie raised an honest, appealing glance to meet the mocking gleam of Rowena’s black eyes.

“Who cares what you think? You are a goody-goody, and I never saw one yet that I’d walk across the street with. Whatever I want, I always get. Remember that, too. If your dear Miss Archer hadn’t been called to another part of the building, I might never have had a chance to read over those examinations. She went away in a hurry and left me sitting in the office. Naturally, as her desk was open, I took a look to see what there was to see. I wasn’t afraid of any subject but algebra. I’m n. g. in that. So I was pretty lucky to get a chance to read over the examination. I knew right away by the questions that it was the one I’d have to try.

“My father promised me a pearl necklace if I’d pass all my tests for the sophomore class. Of course I wanted to win it. That quadratic problem counted thirty credits. It meant that without it I’d stand no chance to pass algebra. I couldn’t do it, and I was in despair when you came into the office. If you hadn’t been so stupid as to take me for Miss Archer’s secretary and hadn’t said you were a junior, I’d have let you alone. That secretary idea wasn’t bad, though. It sent those other girls about their business. I thought you could do that problem if I couldn’t. It’s a good thing you did. I copied it in examination this afternoon and I know it’s right,” she ended triumphantly.

Sheer amazement of the girl’s bold confession rendered Marjorie silent. Never in all her life had she met a girl like Rowena Farnham. Her calm admittance to what Marjorie had suspected was unbelievable. And she appeared to feel no shame for her dishonesty. She gloried in it. Finding her voice at last, the astounded and dismayed interviewer said with brave firmness: “I can’t look at this so lightly, Miss Farnham. It wasn’t fair in you to deceive me into doing a thing like that.”

“What’s done can’t be undone,” quoted Rowena, seemingly undisturbed by the reproof. “You are as deep in the mud as I am in the mire. You helped me, you know.”

“I will not be included in such dishonesty.” Marjorie sprang angrily to her feet and faced Rowena. “If Miss Archer knew this she would not accept your algebra paper. She might not wish to accept you as a pupil, either. I hoped when I came here this afternoon that everything would turn out all right, after all. I hoped that paper might not be the algebra test you were to have. I don’t wish to tell Miss Archer, yet it’s not fair to either of us that you should masquerade under false colors. You have put me in a very hard position.”

It was now Rowena who grew angry. During the interview she had remained standing, looking down on the girl in the chair with amused contempt. Marjorie’s flash of resentment unleashed a temper that had ever been the despair of Rowena’s father and mother. Her dark eyes glowed like live coals, her tall, slender body shook with fury. “If you dare go to Miss Archer with what I’ve told you, I’ll put you in a much harder position. I’ll make you lose every friend you have in school. I know all about you. You’ve bullied and snubbed poor Mignon La Salle and made her lose her friends. But you can’t bully or threaten or snub me. I didn’t want to come to Sanford to live. It’s nothing but a little, silly country town. I didn’t want to go to your old school. My father and mother make me go. My father doesn’t believe in select boarding schools, so I have to make the best of it. If I pass my examinations into the sophomore class I’ll make it my business to see that I get whatever I take a notion to have. You can’t stop me. I’ve always done as I pleased at home and I’ll do as I please in school. If you tell Miss Archer about this morning, I’ll see that you get more blame than I. Don’t forget that, either.”

Marjorie felt as though she had been caught in a pelting rain of hail-stones. Yet the furious flow of vituperation which beat down upon her did not in the least intimidate her. “I am not afraid of anything you may do or say,” she returned, a staunch little figure of dignified scorn. “I came to see you in all good faith, willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. Now that I understand exactly how you feel about this affair, I won’t trouble you further. Good afternoon.”

“Stop! What are you going to do?” called Rowena. Marjorie had already passed into the hall. “You’ve got to tell me before you leave this house.” She darted after her steadily retreating caller, cheeks flaming.

At the outer door, Marjorie paused briefly, her hand on the dead latch. “I said ‘good afternoon,’” was her sole response. Then she let herself out and walked proudly away from the house of inhospitality, oblivious to the torrent of hot words which the irate Rowena shrieked after her from the veranda.