With the first days of spring, the longing to throw down her books and fairly live in the open returned to Grace Harlowe with renewed force.

"I do wish school were over," she said with a sigh to her three chums, as they strolled home one afternoon in May. "I don't mind studying in the winter, but when the spring comes, then it's another matter. I long to golf and play tennis, and picnic in the woods and——"

"That reminds me," said Nora, interrupting her, "that last fall the juniors talked about giving a picnic instead of a ball. We didn't give the ball, so it's up to us to go picnicking."

"That's a fine suggestion, Nora," said Jessica. "I move we post a notice in the locker-room and have a meeting to-morrow after school.

"I can't be there," said Anne regretfully. "To-morrow is one of my days at Mrs. Gray's, but whatever you do will suit me."

"Awfully sorry, Anne," said Grace. "We might call it for the day after to-morrow."

"No, no," protested Anne. "Please don't postpone it on my account."

The notice was duly posted in a conspicuous place in the locker-room the next day, and the entire class, with the exception of Anne, met in one of the smaller rooms off the gymnasium at the close of the afternoon session.

"Esteemed juniors and fellow-citizens," said Grace, after calling the meeting to order. "It is true that no one has particularly requested me to take charge of this meeting, but as I posted the notice, I feel that I am responsible for your presence here to-day. We have before us two matters that need attention. One is the annual entertainment that the junior class always gives, the other the election of class officers. Last year we gave a ball, but this year so far we have done nothing. I move that we proceed at once to elect our president, vice president, secretary and treasurer, and then decide what form of entertainment would be advisable."

"Second the motion," said Nora.

"All those in favor say 'aye,' contrary, 'no.'"

"Carried," said Grace, as no dissenting voices arose. "Nominations for president are now in order."

"I nominate Grace Harlowe for president," exclaimed Miriam Nesbit, springing from her seat.

"Second the motion," said Eva Allen.

It was carried with enthusiasm before Grace had time to protest.

"I nominate Miriam Nesbit for president," said Grace.

This was also seconded and carried. Then Edna Wright rose and nominated Eleanor Savell. This closed the nominations for president, and the matter when put to vote resulted in Grace's election by a majority of ten votes over Miriam, Eleanor having received only five. It was plain to be seen that in spite of the rival faction, Grace held first place in the hearts of most of her class. Miriam Nesbit was elected vice president, Marian Barber treasurer, and, rather to Grace's surprise, Eleanor was chosen as secretary, Edna Wright again nominating her after doing some vigorous whispering among the two back rows of girls. The only other girl proposed being one who was not particularly popular in the class.

"I always suspected Edna Wright's lack of sense," whispered Nora to Jessica. "The idea of nominating Eleanor for secretary when she knows how Eleanor hates the Phi Sigma Tau, and doesn't speak to any of us. I certainly didn't vote for her."

"Nor I," responded Jessica. "Funny Grace would never tell us about that costume business. I know Eleanor was mixed up in it."

"Of course," nodded Nora, and turned her attention to the meeting just in time to hear Grace put the motion for the picnic and say "aye" with the others.

The date for the affair was set for the following Saturday, the weather permitting, and it was generally agreed that Forest Park, a natural park about twelve miles from Oakdale, would be an ideal place to picnic. A refreshment committee was appointed, also a transportation committee. The girls were requested to pay fifty cents apiece to the treasurer.

"If we find that this is not enough, we will levy another tax," Grace announced.

"I'm not positive about the first collection," muttered Nora. "I'm perpetually broke."

"So am I," said Jessica. "My allowance lasts about two days, and then I am penniless for the rest of the month."

The details having been disposed of, the members decided to meet in front of the High School the following Saturday morning at nine o'clock. The transportation committee was to have two big picnic wagons in readiness and the juniors went home with pleasant anticipations of a day in the woods.

"Won't it be fun?" exclaimed Grace joyously, as she walked down the street, the center of the Phi Sigma Tau.

"Great," said Miriam Nesbit. "I suppose we could all squeeze into David's automobile."

"I believe we'd better not," replied Grace. "It might create bad feeling among the girls. We don't want them to feel that we think ourselves too exclusive to ride with them."

"I'll wager anything Eleanor and Edna won't go with the crowd," said Eva Allen.

"I don't know about that," remarked Nora O'Malley. "Eleanor has just been elected secretary, therefore it behooves her to keep on the right side of those who elected her."

"She owes her office to Edna Wright," said Marian Barber, "and also to the fact that her opponent, Miss Wells, is not popular. For my part, I think Miss Wells would have been a better secretary. We could at least have gotten along peaceably with her. I can't see why Eleanor accepted, knowing she would have to act with us in class matters."

"I have noticed that ever since the play she has been trying to gain a footing in the class," said Miriam Nesbit thoughtfully. "She has gone out of her way to be nice to girls that she used to snub unmercifully. We are the only ones she keeps away from. I believe she will try to influence the rest of the class against us."

"She'll have to hurry up if she does it this term," said Nora.

"Perhaps she won't come back to school next year, she is so changeable," said Jessica hopefully.

"Yes, she will," said Grace, taking part in the discussion for the first time since it had touched on Eleanor.

"How do you know?" was the question.

"She told me so the night of the play," was Grace's answer. "Girls, I have never told you about what happened that night. Anne knows, but, you see, it particularly concerned her. I was too angry at the time to trust myself to tell any one else. As members of the same sorority, I know that you can be trusted not to repeat what I shall tell you."

In a few words Grace told the story of Eleanor's treachery, omitting, however, the part concerning Miss Thompson. She had decided to reveal that to no one.

"Well, of all things," said Nora O'Malley. "I knew she was to blame. So she threatened revenge, did she?"

"Yes," replied Grace. "That is why I have told you this. Be careful what you do. Never give her a chance to take advantage of you in any way, for she is determined to make mischief. Now let us forget her, and talk about the picnic."

With the talk of the picnic, Grace's warning soon passed from the girls' minds. They had no knowledge of the trials that their senior year was to bring them or how fully the truth of Grace's words was to be proved.

The day of the picnic dawned fair and cloudless. By nine o'clock a merry party of laughing, chattering girls had gathered in front of the High School, where the two immense wagons generally used by Oakdale picnickers, each drawn by four horses, awaited them. For a wonder every one was on time, and the start was made with a great fluttering of handkerchiefs, accompanied by enthusiastic cheers and High School yells. As they rattled down the street people paused and looked smilingly after them. Oakdale was very proud of her High School boys and girls, and enjoyed seeing them happy.

The Phi Sigma Tau were seated in one end of the second wagon, with the exception of Grace, who had perched herself on the driver's seat, and was holding an animated conversation with the driver, old Jerry Flynn, whom every one knew and liked. Grace always cultivated old Jerry's acquaintance whenever she had the chance. To-day he was allowing her to drive, while, with folded hands, he directed her management of the lines. Grace was in her element and gave a sigh of regret as they sighted the park. "I could go on driving four horses forever, Mr. Flynn," she exclaimed. "Do let me drive going back?"

"Sure yez can, miss," said the good-natured Irishman, "and it's meself'll hellup yez, and show yez how to do it."

The committee on entertainment had provided a series of races and contests for the morning. After lunch there would be a tennis match, and then the girls could amuse themselves as they chose; the start home to be made about six o'clock.

Grace and Nora decided to enter the hundred-yard dash. "The prize is a box of stationery bought at the ten-cent store, so I am anxious to win it," Nora informed them. "In fact, all the prizes came from that useful and overworked place. I was on the purchasing committee."

"I shall enter the one-legged race. I always could stand on one foot like a crane," announced Jessica, "and hopping is my specialty."

There was an egg and spoon race, a walking match, an apple-eating contest, with the apples suspended by strings from the low branch of a tree, to be eaten without aid from the hands, and various other stunts of a similar nature.

The morning passed like magic. Each new set of contestants seemed funnier than the preceding one. Nora won the coveted box of stationery. Jessica ably demonstrated her ability to outhop her competitors, while Eva Allen covered herself with glory in the apple contest.

Grace, after losing the hundred-yard dash, laughingly refused to enter the other contests. "I mean to win at tennis this afternoon," she said, "so I'm not going to waste my precious energy on such little stunts."

After the midday luncheon had been disposed of, the entire class repaired to the tennis court at the east end of the park. A match had been arranged in which Grace and Miriam Nesbit were to play against Ruth Deane and Edna Wright, who was an indefatigable tennis player, and therefore figured frequently in tennis matches held in Oakdale. At the last minute, however, Edna pleaded a severe headache and recommended Eleanor in her place.

"But I never have played with her," protested Ruth Deane, "and how do I know whether she can play?"

"Try her," begged Edna. "I have played with her and she is a wonder."

It was with considerable surprise and some misgiving that Grace discovered that Eleanor was to play. "I seem fated to oppose her," Grace thought. "I wonder at her consenting to play against us. I'll keep my eye on her, at any rate, for I don't trust her."

Grace's fears were, in this instance, groundless, for Eleanor played a perfectly fair game from start to finish, and proved herself a powerful antagonist. Her serves were as straight and accurate as a boy's, and she played with great spirit and agility. Indeed, the sides were so evenly matched that junior excitement rose high and numerous boxes of Huyler's were wagered against the result. The game stood forty-all. Two vantages scored in succession were needed by one side to win. Grace forgot everything but the fact that she desired the victory. With her, going into a game meant winning it. Five minutes later the match was over. She and Miriam had won against worthy opponents.

"That was an evenly matched game," exclaimed Nora, as Grace and Miriam strolled to where their friends were seated upon the grass. "You played like professionals."

"Eleanor is a better player than Edna Wright," said Grace. "Her serves are wonderful. We had all we could do to hold our own."

"There's a trout brook over there," said Nora, "and I had forethought enough to borrow a fishing rod and line from Hippy. It is jointed, so it didn't get in any one's way. I left it with the lunch baskets. Therefore, as I'm not afraid of angle worms, I'm going to dig some bait and fish. Want to come?"

"Not I," laughed Anne. "Miriam and I are going up under the trees and read Browning."

"The idea of going to a picnic and reading!" exclaimed Jessica. "Come on, girls, let's go with Nora." She hastily rose, brushed off her gown and followed in Nora's wake, accompanied by Eva and Marian.

"Come with us, dear," said Anne to Grace, who stood looking dreamily toward a patch of woods to the left.

"No indeed," replied Grace. "I'm going to explore a little in those woods yonder."

"Don't go far," called Anne anxiously, as Grace turned to go.

"I won't," she answered. "See you later."

As she reached the cool shadows of the little strip of woods she drew a long breath. How delightful it was to hear the rustle of the leaves over her head, and tread upon Nature's green carpet of soft, thick moss. Forgetful of her promise, Grace wandered farther and farther on, gathering the wild flowers as she went. She found plenty of trilliums and violets, and pounced with a cry of delight upon some wild pink honeysuckle just opening. After stripping the bush, she turned into a bypath that led straight up a little hill which rose before her. Scrambling up the hill, Grace reached the top and looked about her. Nestling at the foot of the elevation on the side opposite to the one she had climbed stood a small one-story cottage.

"How funny," thought Grace. "I didn't know there was a house anywhere near here. I'm going down there for a drink of water. I'm awfully thirsty."

Suiting the action to the words, Grace hurried toward the cottage. As she neared it she noticed that the door was wide open. "Some one is at home, that's certain," she said to herself. "I hope they won't be cross at my asking for a drink. Why," she exclaimed, "there's no one living here at all. I think I'll venture in, perhaps there's a well at the back of the house."

Entering, she found that the cottage consisted of but two rooms. The front one was absolutely bare, but the back one contained an old stove, a broken-down sink and a rickety chair. At one side was a good-sized closet. Opening it, Grace found nothing save a dilapidated old coat. Just then she caught the sound of rough voices just outside the cottage.

"I tell ye, Bill, we've got to do the job to-night and hike for the West on that train that goes through Oakdale at 3.15 in the morning," said a voice that was almost a growl.

"I'm wid yer, Jim," answered another voice in correspondingly savage tones. "Even to layin' a few out stiff if dey gets in de way."

Grace listened. She heard heavy footsteps, and, peeping into the room, she saw a burly figure outlined in the front door in the act of entering. She glanced toward the back door. It was closed and fastened with a bolt. If she could slip out that way, she could make a run for the picnic grounds, but she dared not try to pass the two men who had just appeared. The few words of their conversation proved them to be lawless. Noiselessly she slipped into the closet and drew the door almost shut. She would hide until they had gone. They were not likely to linger long in the cottage.

Minute after minute went by, but the intruders showed no signs of leaving.

"What shall I do?" Grace breathed, wringing her hands. "They're real, downright burglars of the worst sort, and they're planning a robbery. It's getting late, too, and the girls will soon be going back. Oh, I must get out of here, but I won't try to go until I find out whose house they're going to rob."

The men talked on, but, listen as she might, Grace could get no clue.

"There ain't a soul on the joint except the judge and one old servant," growled Bill. "The rest o' the bunch'll be at the weddin' of one o' the girls. I laid low and heard 'em talkin' about it to-day. The judge's got money in the house, too. He always keeps it around, and that old Putnam place is pretty well back from the road."

Grace waited to hear no more. She had obtained the information she sought. They were going to rob and perhaps murder good old Judge Putnam.

Slipping quietly out of the closet, she approached the back door and cautiously took hold of the bolt. To her joy it moved easily. Exercising the greatest care in sliding it back, she lifted the latch. It made no sound, and, holding her breath, she softly swung open the door and ran on tiptoe around the corner of the house. Throwing away her bouquet as she ran, she made for a clump of underbrush at one side of the cottage. Here she paused, and hearing no disturbance from inside, she continued her flight. But she had lost her sense of direction, and after fifteen minutes' wandering was about to despair of finding her way, when she espied the honeysuckle bush that she had stripped earlier in the afternoon. This put her on the right track, but she was farther away from the picnic grounds than she had supposed, and when tired and breathless she at last reached them, it was only to find them deserted. The party had gone back to town without her.

Grace stood staring about her in blank dismay. It was nearing seven o'clock, and she was twelve miles from Oakdale. Why hadn't the girls waited? Grace felt ready to cry, then the vision of the poor old judge, alone and at the mercy of the two ruffians, flashed before her.

"I'll walk to Oakdale," she said, with a determined nod of her head. "And I'll not stop for an instant until I notify the police."

Grace never forgot that lonely walk. The darkness of a moonless night settled down upon her before she had gone three miles, but she would not allow herself to think of fear. She stumbled frequently as she neared her journey's end, and her tired body cried out for rest, but she pushed resolutely on, almost sobbing with relief as she entered the suburbs of the town. It was nearly eleven by the city hall clock when she hurried up the steps of the police station.

"Well, well!" said Chief Burroughs, as Grace rushed unceremoniously into his office. "Here's the lost girl now. I just received word that you were missing. Your father and one of my men left here not five minutes ago. They went to the livery to hire a rig."

"Oh, try and stop them, Mr. Burroughs," cried Grace excitedly. "'Phone the livery and tell them that I'm here. Then listen to me, for I've walked all the way from Forest Park and there's no time to lose."

"Walked from Forest Park?" exclaimed the chief, as he turned to the 'phone. "Why that's a good twelve miles and——"

"I know," interrupted Grace, then was silent, for the chief had begun talking to the livery.

"It's all right," he said, hanging up. "They'll be here directly. Caught them just in the nick of time, however. Now what's on your mind, Grace?"

"They're going to rob old Judge Putnam," Grace burst forth incoherently. "He's all alone. Oh, do send some one out there quickly, or it may be too late. Isn't there a telephone in the judge's house? He ought to be warned."

"Who's going to rob the judge? What are you talking about, my child?" asked the chief. "No, the judge has no 'phone. He thinks them a nuisance."

Grace rapidly told of her adventure in the woods, and her escape from the cottage. Before she had finished Chief Burroughs had begun to act. Summoning three special policemen, he narrated briefly what he had just heard, and five minutes later Grace had the satisfaction of knowing that, fully armed, they were well on their way to the Putnam estate.

"I can't understand why the girls didn't miss me," she said to the chief, as she sat awaiting her father's appearance.

"Miss Bright and Miss O'Malley, who were in the second wagon, thought you were in the first with Miss Pierson and Miss Nesbit, and vice versa," replied the chief. "The second wagon broke down when about half way home. It took over half an hour to get it fixed, so when it did arrive the girls in the head wagon had all gone home. Your mother grew uneasy when ten o'clock came, so she telephoned your friends, and on comparing notes you were found to be among the missing."

"What a mix-up," laughed Grace. "No wonder I wasn't missed. I'm sorry mother was uneasy, but she'll forgive me when she hears my tale. Oh, I hope nothing has happened to the poor old judge."

"Well, we'll soon know," replied the chief. "Now, you just take it easy and rest until your father comes. You need it after a twelve-mile walk. Of all the brave little girls——"

The ringing of the telephone cut the chief short.

Grace gave a long sigh and leaned back in the big chair. She was so tired. Her eyelids drooped——

"Well, I declare!" said the chief, as he turned from the telephone, for Grace was fast asleep.