That evening Dolly was wishing for some one’s note-book on Greek art, that she might make up a lecture she had lost because of a headache. Beth noted rather anxiously that Dolly had many headaches in these days. This was something new. Until very lately, Dolly and headaches had been strangers.

The junior year was conceded by everyone to be the easiest year in the entire course, so Beth did not believe that Dolly was working too hard. Yet she seemed tired so much of the time! She had been so anxious that athletics at Westover should be revived, but now, when an effort was being made in that direction, Dolly took only a languid interest in the matter. Beth helped her in many little ways, and hid her increasing anxiety, although she was fully determined to write to Mrs. Alden, if Dolly did not grow stronger within a short time.

Beth looked up as Dolly was expressing her wish for the notes on Greek art. She, herself, was not taking that course, for she preferred logarithms and abstruse calculations, to the marvels of the Parthenon.

“I’ll get you Margery Ainsworth’s note-book, Dolly; she has full notes on everything, the girls say.”

“Yes, her book would do splendidly, if she will loan it, but I ought to get it myself. There is no reason in the world why you should be running my errands in this fashion.”

“I like it, so don’t talk nonsense,” and Beth went off briskly.

She gave a little tap at Margery’s door, then entered, thinking that she had heard Margery speak. When she was fairly in the room, however, she saw Margery lying on her couch, sobbing as if her heart would break.

“Why, Margery, what is the trouble? have you had bad news? Do tell me.”

Margery sat up hastily. Beth was not the person whom she would have selected as her confidant. “I have just received a letter from Father. He has been crippled in business for some time by the recent bank failures, and now he has lost everything.”“Oh, Margery, I am dreadfully sorry.”

“Mother is such an invalid that it will be hard on her. She has a little money of her own, not much, but enough, Father says, to pay up every cent he owes and to keep me here until I graduate.”

“It must be a comfort, Margery, to feel that he will not owe any person a cent.”

“Yes, it is,” with an irrepressible sob, “but, oh, I want to be at home helping, but Father says that I can help best by going through and graduating. He was afraid of this, and that was the reason he was so determined that I should graduate here and be prepared to teach. Mother may need to depend upon me entirely some day, for, of course, Father is not young any more, and we have no near relatives; no one, at least, upon whom we would ever call for help.”

“You must be proud of the fact that your father can depend upon you, dear.”

“There is not much to be proud of. Just think, Beth, if I had not wasted so much of my time, I should be graduating this year. Now I cannot be of any help for nearly two years. That is the bitterest part of all. We have never been rich people, but Father made a comfortable living for us. I ought to have realized that it cost a great deal for him to send me here, and I should have made the most of my time–but I didn’t.”

“No one could have done better than you have been doing lately, Margery.”

“But I cannot make up that lost year. That is the dreadful part of it. Repentance doesn’t take away the consequences of one’s folly, does it? We have to pay for it all. Just now, when I ought to be in a position to help at home, I am only an added burden. Father has seen this coming for years, but I did not know it. He lost many thousands of dollars in a great bank failure four years ago. He has never quite recovered from that blow. If there had not been several failures lately, though, among people who owed him money, he would have managed to pull through.”

“But you knew nothing of all this, Margery, so do not blame yourself too severely.”

“I knew that Father was not rich, and I ought not to have wasted my time. I know that I must graduate now, if I would teach, but it is dreadfully hard to think that I must use up my mother’s little pittance for it.”

“But she wants you to take it, dear, and I am sure that the best thing you can do for your parents, now, is to be cheerful and happy. You will probably have many long years in which to work for them both; and really, Margery, you are working for them now just as truly as if you were earning money for them.”

But even Beth’s bright reasoning failed to console the girl, and Beth went back to Dolly feeling quite downcast.

“There, if I didn’t forget your book! Let me tell you the news and then I will go back and get it.”

“Never mind the book,” said Dolly when Beth had told the story. “I feel too wretched to use it tonight. I wish you would tell Constance, though. She may know how to comfort Margery a little, and perhaps she can devise some plan for helping her.”

But while Constance was sympathetic and kind, she could think of no way for assisting Margery just then. “When she is ready to teach, I can help her, I am sure. I think it likely that she may be able to get a good position in one of the fashionable boarding-schools in New York; then she will not be obliged to leave home.”

So Margery’s friends did all that they could for her in a quiet way, but, after all, they could not carry her burden, and Margery felt in those days as if life were a hard thing.

Dolly’s headaches had grown no better; they had become perpetual, until Beth, in frightened desperation, wrote to Mrs. Alden. Before her mother reached the college, however, Dolly had been removed to the hospital, and several of the other students were developing symptoms of the same malarial fever that had attacked Dolly.

“There is much of this disease in the lower portion of the city. I have been attributing the trouble there to bad drinking water, but that hardly seems to account for the outbreak here, because your drinking water is wonderfully clear and pure.”

“We are often in that part of the city, though,” Beth said, “and we almost always get a drink at the fountain.”

“That accounts for it, then. How often have you been in the habit of going to that part of Westover?”

“Nearly every day. You know that we are required to take outdoor exercise.”

“We must see that no more mischief is done,” the Doctor said, with a grave face.

But although the fountain was removed and a new system of drainage introduced, the mischief was already wrought, so far as Dolly was concerned. All of the girls liked her, and were ready to do all in their power to make things easier for her when she returned once more to her classes. Her illness was not serious, but it was tedious and wearisome. Constance copied her own literature notes into Dolly’s book, and Margery copied the Greek art. The professors did everything in their power to smooth things, but Christmas found Dolly pale and thin, and utterly aghast at the work she must take up; for the half-yearly examinations to which the juniors were treated would come at the end of January and she was far from being prepared.

“I wonder if I hadn’t better give up college altogether, Mother? It will break my heart to do it, but, honestly, I do not see how I can ever make up all this work. I lack the energy to attack it. It is not merely the work that I have missed, either, during these three weeks since I have been in the hospital. I could not do good work for several weeks before that. To think of Beth’s graduating, and my not even being in college then,” and Dolly tried to wink away the tears which would come, for Dolly was not strong yet.

Mrs. Alden had stayed throughout Dolly’s sickness, and now she looked at her daughter thoughtfully. “I want to do the best thing for you, Dolly, and, as far as I am concerned, I feel like bundling you up and taking you home for good. I wrote Fred to that effect, but he says that you will not forgive me in after years if I do it. He has a plan of his own, and you shall hear it. Then you can decide for yourself what to do. You are old enough to make the decision unaided. Fred wants to bring home Rob Steele for the holidays. There will be nearly three weeks. He says that Rob has been overworking fearfully, and is in danger of breaking down. Rob refuses to come, because he says that he is already under so many obligations to Fred. He is as obstinate as a mule, your brother declares. So Fred proposes that you take home your note-books and whatever else you need, and let Rob coach you up in the mornings. He can make him come under those circumstances. He wants me to tell you that Rob is a splendid coach, and that he will fix you up so that you can go back in January with a free mind. You can give your mornings to study, and have plenty of time for fun beside. What shall I tell him, Dolly, dear? I must write at once.”

“I believe, I actually believe, that I could do it in that way. Beth wanted to help me, but we do not have the same studies, and I knew how anxious she was to be at home, too. This plan will help Mr. Steele, and Fred will like that.”

“Yes, Fred will like that, for he is fond of Rob, but, most of all, he will like helping you, Dolly. Fred is proud of his sister. Can you do this without overtasking yourself? Health must come first.”

“I know I can. It was mostly the thought of sitting down to the horrid old books all alone; I merely didn’t have the courage to face the prospect. This will improve matters. I would rather do it than not–much rather. I am considerable of a baby since I have been sick, Motherdie, and I dreaded going at the work that will have to be done. At the same time, I couldn’t bear to fall behind the class. Fred is a jewel.”

And so the matter was settled, to the delight of all. Beth’s face looked brighter than it had since Dolly’s illness. “I just could not stand it to have you drop out, Dolly. Tell Fred that he is the nicest young man I know, to think of this solution of the difficulty. You will get through all right, I know!”

And Dolly did get through, for she worked faithfully during the holidays. Rob Steele was about the best person she could have had to help her, and, as Fred surmised, he agreed to go willingly enough, when he found that there was work for him to do. When vacation was over, and Mr. Alden tried to pay him, however, he bluntly refused to take a cent. He was so positive in his refusal, and so hurt that the offer was even made, that the subject was dropped.

Margaret and Mary had gone home with Constance. Several of the other girls had joined the party later and Margery Ainsworth had been with them for a couple of days. Beth and Dolly had been invited, but Dolly could not spare the time from her studies, and Beth would not go without her. Besides, as she told Mrs. Newby: “I like home better than any other place, so what is the use of running off the moment I get here?”

“We like to have you with us, dearie, but we must not be selfish. If you are really happy here at home, we shall be glad to keep you. Nell and the boys have been looking forward to vacation time very eagerly. You know, though, that you would have a gay round of pleasure if you should go to Constance.”

“But I am not going, Mother, and that is positively settled. You need not say another word unless you want to get rid of me.”

“That is so likely!”

So Beth and Dolly spent their holidays this time in their own homes, and while they would have enjoyed the good times which Constance gave her friends, they doubtless went back to their studies all the fresher for the quiet rest they had had.

Dick Martin had run down to see Fred on New Year’s Day. He pretended to feel much hurt and slighted when he found that Rob Steele had been coaching Dolly all vacation.

“Why didn’t you ask me? I was in need of such a job, and I would have done it for much less than Steele! Next time you want help, don’t forget me.”

“Have you any references from former pupils?” Dolly asked maliciously.

“Now, I call that a very unkind speech. If you are going to doubt my ability, I have nothing more to say, of course; still, next time you need help I do hope that you will give me a chance. I mean it, Miss Dolly.”

“I trust that there will be no ‘next time.’ A few such setbacks as this, and I should be obliged to leave college.”

“I sincerely hope there will not be, either. Now I would like a promise from you, and I hope you will not refuse to grant it. I have been intending to speak about it for some time.”