Molly Lavender paused when Hester said these words to her.

"I want to find Kate," she said. "There is something dreadful the matter with Kate. She looked at me as if she thought I had said something. Oh, I must go to her; don't keep me."

"Perhaps you had better," said Hester, giving Molly a queer glance.

Molly ran out of the room. Hester was dragged down on an ottoman between two of her friends. They were both excited.

"Do let us talk the thing over!" they said. "Did you ever know anything so dramatic? and didn't Kate look charming? I'm sure one wouldn't mind being a peasant, or a dairymaid, or anything else, if one could look as she did just now."

"It wasn't the look so much as the words," said a tall, dark girl who stood near. "I scarcely looked at her, but her words were like a poem. I never knew anyone choose her language so well. I suppose she inherits her talent from that wonderful old man. How I wish I were an artist, that I might sketch that scene which she depicted the old man and the girl! Anyone in all the world would be proud to be that girl. Oh, what is it, Miss Ross? Did you speak?"

Cecil had been waiting all this time to find an opportunity.

"The thing to do," she said, "is this. We must not waste our time in admiring the beautiful picture which Miss O'Connor sketched for us; we must get at the bottom of the mischief which has been going on. Molly Lavender and Kate were great friends; now Kate is unkind and cold to Molly. Did you say anything, Hester?"

"Well, the fact is," said Hester, "I am not greatly surprised."

"Why? Do you know anything of this?"

"Something; please don't look at me so indignantly, Cecil. We all love Molly, and it was quite the last sort of thing we expected her to do."

"But she did nothing. What do you mean? Molly loves Kate with all her heart; there is nothing she would not do for her. What is this mystery?"

"Perhaps the mystery is being put straight now," said Hester. "Molly did the very best thing she could, when she said she would go to Kate. Kate is excited and softened now, and if Molly goes to her and confesses, and says she is sorry, I have not the least doubt that Kate will forgive her."

"But," said Cecil indignantly, "Molly has nothing to be sorry about. If ever a girl in the world was as true as steel, it is Molly Lavender. Come," she added, "I am a stranger at present at St. Dorothy's, I don't know any of you girls, but I do know Molly Lavender. She and I were at school together when we were children, and have been great friends all our lives."

"Then of course you take her part," said Hester.

Cecil's eyes flashed fire.

"I do," she answered with spirit, "and I insist on knowing the truth. What has Molly done?"

"Well, it is this. Kate, for all her high spirits and her fun and nonsense, has a lot of reserve about her. She will hardly tell her innermost thoughts to anyone. Not a soul in the place, except, of course, Miss Forester and Miss Leicester, knew about the story which she told us to-night. We thought of her just like any other girl. We did not know that she had a romance at the back of her; we did not know anything about her origin. Of course she is, in every sense of the word, a perfect lady, and we just thought, if we thought at all, that she had been brought up like the rest of us in a comfortable home, and with all the usual refinements of life. Well, when Molly came, Kate took a great fancy to her, and Molly seemed equally fond of Kate. You know Molly Lavender is rich, and she has a bedroom to herself, and all kinds of little luxuries which the girls who live in dormitories can't aspire to. Well, when poor Kate began to sigh, and tried to get up a society in the cause of the Dwellers in Cubicles, as she called them, Molly was one of her most stanch supporters; she shared her room with her night after night until you came, Cecil. In short, they were inseparable, and scarcely ever apart; and one day Kate opened her heart to Molly, and showed her that picture which she sketched so graphically for us all to-night. She never told another soul, and of course she thought that she was safe with Molly. What do you think happened? In less than a week the story began to be known all over the school. Not dear Kate's own beautiful story, but a vulgar, common edition of it. Kate was no lady, Kate used to do menial work, Kate was received here on charity! You know how silly schoolgirls can be over this sort of thing; and although everybody liked Kate, there were some silly girls who began to look down on her. At last it reached my ears, and I thought it only fair to tell her."

"Who did you trace the report to?" asked Cecil.

"Well, of course, Matilda Matthews was in it. You know what a horrid, disagreeable girl Matilda is. There is no girl in the whole school so disliked, and how Molly could have so completely forgotten herself as to give Matilda her confidence passes my comprehension. There is not the least doubt that she did tell her, for the simple reason that Molly alone, in the whole school, knew the truth."

When Hester had finished speaking, there was a little pause. Cecil was standing up, her face was white, her eyes stared straight in front of her; she was evidently thinking hard. Hester looked at her, and so did several of the other girls, expecting her to make some response, but she did not speak.

"Kate was cut to the heart," continued Hester. "I could see that; not that she said a great deal to me. She evidently made this little plan to let the whole school know the real truth. For my part, I think it very brave of her to stop gossip in this way; but I am very sorry indeed about Molly Lavender."

"Thank you for telling me," said Cecil.

"Have you nothing to say?"

"Nothing at present."

"Do you mean to do anything?"

"Yes, everything; but I have nothing to say on the subject at present."

Cecil left the room. On her way up to her own room she met Molly. Molly's eyes were red, her face pale.

"Have you seen her, Molly?" asked Cecil.

"No; she locked herself into her cubicle, and would not see me. I called to her through the door, but she would not reply. Cecil, what does it all mean?"

"It means treachery," said Cecil. "I have got to the bottom of it now. This thing must be put right, somehow. I made Hester tell me the whole story."

"Kate seems to suspect me," said Molly, putting up her hand to her head. "I never felt so puzzled in my life."

"Well, come into your room, and let us talk it out," said Cecil.

The girls entered Molly's room. She turned on the electric light, and they sat down side by side on her little bed.

"It is a great matter to know the truth," said Cecil. "The facts of the case are simply these: Kate confided her story to you."

"Yes; about three weeks ago."

"Well, since then it has got into the school, and Kate suspects that you betrayed her confidence to Matilda Matthews."

"How dared she?" said Molly, coloring crimson. "What kind of girl must she think me?"

"Well, Molly, we must get to the bottom of it somehow. There is not the least manner of doubt that you are the only person in the school who had been told Kate's secret until to-night. Of course you never told: you would not breathe a word—that goes without saying. We need not waste our breath over that. The thing to find out is, how Matilda got her knowledge."

"I have not the faintest idea," said Molly. "I remember the day when Kate told me. We had taken a long walk together. She is a great botanist, and she was explaining to me some wonderfully interesting things about some plants which we had come across in our walk; then we went into the playground, and we sat in the summerhouse. It was a warm day for the time of year, and we were both tired and hot from our walk. There was not a soul anywhere near—not a single soul. Some girls in the distance were playing hockey; we did not take any notice of them. I asked Kate quite suddenly how she knew so much about plants. She looked at me—she gave me one of those straight glances which always somehow went to my heart, and then, she began to speak about her grandfather. The moment she mentioned him, she began to get enthusiastic. She drew such a picture that I became almost beside myself with delight and appreciation, that fact drew her on to tell me more. She described the cows and the little cottage, and the view from her bedroom window. Perhaps she did not make such a graphic picture of the whole thing as she did to-night, but the story was the same. I never loved her more, nor respected her more. Of course it was told in the greatest confidence, and it never passed my lips—never, until now when I am telling you."

"It is no secret now," said Cecil; "all the world knows, or, at least, all our school world knows, that you have been confided in, and that you are supposed to be the betrayer. How in the world did the story get out?"

"That I can't tell," said Molly. "It is a mystery which I can't explain."

"Are you quite certain there was no one near?"

"Quite, quite, quite! Don't you know the house in the playground, Cecil? It is nothing but a bare room—just a few chairs and a couple of benches, and lots of hooks on the walls to hang up our cricket and tennis bats. We had the summerhouse to ourselves, and there was not a soul in sight."

"I must try and get to the bottom of this," said Cecil.

"What do you mean to do? I feel quite in despair. I shall, of course, tell Kate the moment I see her that I am quite innocent, that she is unjust in suspecting me; but I greatly fear, from her manner to-night, and from her refusing to see me, that she will not believe my word."

"Dear Molly, she shall believe you yet," said Cecil, in a caressing voice.

Molly leaned up against her friend.

"It is such a comfort to have you in school, Ceci," she said. "Oh, it is very wrong of me to think so much of myself in this matter."

"How can you help it, you poor dear? You, of all people, to be suspected of this sort of thing; but, never mind, I am going to take it up now."

"I can't imagine what you will do."

"I don't quite know myself yet, but I am not sister to four brothers for nothing. If you only could guess, Molly, what scrapes those boys have been in—the kind of things even Maurice has been suspected of doing. But I have always got them to confide in me; and somehow, when we talked the thing out, and straightened it a bit, and got the tangles out of it, as it were, we always began to get glimpses of daylight. Of course I could not interfere in the boys' affairs as I can in yours, but I have before now set quite hopeless sort of scrapes—indeed they seemed so at the time—straight."

"Well, I wish you would take me up," said Molly.

"I intend to, you may be sure, and also that poor Kate O'Connor. Of course I am angry with her for suspecting you, but it is impossible not to love her and be interested in her. Now, Molly, I want you to promise me one thing."

"What is that?"

"Just tell Kate the truth quite simply to-morrow; don't exaggerate, and don't protest. Tell her you know she suspects you, assure her of your innocence, and then leave the matter in my hands; don't say another word. Of course it is easy to guess who is at the bottom of all the mischief."

"Who?" inquired Molly.

"Why, Matilda Matthews! Did you notice how anxious Kate was to keep her in the room this evening, and how often Matilda made for the door? I was quite amused watching the clever way in which Kate kept her victim within sight. Of course I could not guess her motive at the time; now I see that she wanted to shame Matilda thoroughly."

"Yes; I hate Matilda!" said Molly. "I never did hate anyone before, but I hate her! Of course she has made the mischief; but how did she find out? That is the puzzle of all puzzles, Cecil."

"Of course it is a puzzle," said Cecil; "but we'll drag it into the light of day somehow. Now, Molly, I'm dead tired, and I think I must say good-night."

"Good-night!" said Molly.

A moment later her friend went away.

Cecil ran upstairs to her own cubicle. It was next to Kate's, and as she laid her head on her pillow she thought she heard a sound something like a sob not far away. She longed to speak and give a word of comfort, but she knew that anything she said would be overheard by other girls. There was nothing for her to do but to bide her time.

Cecil's new life was full of the keenest interests. Her examinations had been successful. She had taken a high place in the school. Miss Forester had already singled her out for special notice. It was arranged that she was to try for the great yearly scholarship given by the governors of Redgarth to the best pupil, and her head was absorbed with the new and vivid interests which her different studies were bringing to her. Nevertheless, Cecil had lived an unselfish life; she loved Molly with all her heart and soul, and determined not to leave a stone unturned to get her out of her present difficulty. She lay awake for a short time thinking about her, suppressed a sigh as she thought of the valuable help Maurice, not to say Jimmy, could give her in this emergency; for Maurice was the soul of common sense, and Jimmy was a born detective. But as the boys were far away, she had to trust to her own ingenuity. Suddenly an idea darted through her mind. Why not write to Jimmy and ask his advice?

"I never knew such a lad for ferreting out mysteries," thought Cecil. "I need not give him any names, but I'll just put the case in a few strong words, and see what he suggests. The thing to find out is this: How did Matilda get her knowledge? I'll put the whole case to Jimmy."

Cecil knew that she would have no time to do this in the morning. She got softly out of bed, lit her candle, sat down before her writing-desk, and wrote the following letter:

Dear Jimmy:

You know you are fond of mysteries. Can you make anything out of the following? You must forgive me for not mentioning names. The case is just as I am putting it. There is a very nice girl in this school; she is what you would call a brick; she has a friend who is just as nice in her own way. The friend is the sort of true girl who would not tell a secret for all the world. One day these two girls were sitting together in a little summerhouse, made of wood, in our large playground. The one girl told the other girl a secret. It was an important secret, and just the sort which any person who had a grain of honor in him or her would rather be cut in pieces than tell again. Well, Jimmy, in some mysterious way the secret has got out; everyone in the school knows about it, and the poor dear girl, who would rather have her tongue cut out than betray her friend, is supposed to have been treacherous, and to have betrayed her friend's confidence. In some dreadful way the secret has got into the hands of a very unscrupulous girl in the school, and she is making use of it, and we're all unhappy. There was not a soul anywhere near the summerhouse when the one girl told the other the secret. How did the mischievous, cruel girl get hold of it? That is what I want to know. Now, Jimmy, dear, set your keen detective wits to work and give me a clew, if you can. Give my love to Maurice; I will write to him on Saturday. I hope you all try not to make poor Mr. Danvers too unhappy.

Your loving sister,
Cecil.

P.S.—Write by return, if you can. Set your keen wits to work, Jimmy, and give me a solution of this mystery as you love me.

Cecil felt absurdly cheered when she had written this letter. She went back to bed, and soon afterward fell asleep.

The next morning Kate came down to breakfast looking just as usual. She was watched with great interest when she entered the breakfast room, but except that she held her head a little higher than usual, and that her cheeks were even brighter than of yore, there seemed no change whatever about her. She talked a good deal during breakfast, and even addressed Molly Lavender as if nothing special had happened. Cecil watched her with anxiety; Molly avoided meeting her eyes. Immediately after breakfast followed prayers, and then the girls went up to their rooms to get ready to go to school. Molly ran up to hers, put on her hat and jacket, snatched up her exercise and note books, and went and waited in the hall. Kate, as a rule, was one of the first to go to school. Molly felt her heart beating faster than usual as she heard her light footsteps coming downstairs.

"Kate, I want to speak to you," said Molly, the moment Kate entered the wide central hall.

"Well, what is it, Molly?" answered Kate.

She had been looking quite bright and cheerful when she came into the hall; some words of a little song which she used to sing to Cusha were bubbling from her lips. Kate had a voice sweet and true as a lark's. The gay sound stopped when Molly addressed her. Molly's brown eyes met hers fully.

"I must say it," said Molly; "you shan't hinder me. I know you suspect me, Kate."

"We won't say anything more on the subject now, Molly," replied Kate, in a gentle tone.

"We must," replied Molly, with spirit. "Do you think I am going to live under suspicion? Look at me, Kate, and tell me if I seem like the sort of girl you suspect me of being."

"No, you don't; that is the cruel thing," said Kate, giving her a critical glance.

"Kate, won't you believe me?" said Molly. Her voice grew full of entreaty. "I never betrayed anyone in all my life; I never told a lie in all my life; I never broke a confidence since I was born. I have plenty of faults, but these are not mine. Is it likely, Kate, that I would tell what you told me in such confidence? Is it likely—is it?"

"No," said Kate, "it is not likely, but——" She paused.

"Yes, Kate, yes! what do you mean by 'but'? Do you still believe that I betrayed you?"

"How can I help myself, Molly?"

Molly's eyes grew full of tears. The voices of several girls were heard approaching.

"Listen," said Kate, going quickly to Molly's side. "I spoke to Miss Leicester this morning. She said that, after all, mine was a sort of false humility last night. She was sorry that I told my story to the school. I am not sorry; I am glad that everyone knows. I hate deception, and there is no deception now. I would give all the world not to believe that you broke my confidence, Molly; but I told no one else."

"I never broke it," said Molly. "I had not the faintest idea why you were cold and distant to me until last night. Now, I wish to tell you emphatically that I am innocent—innocent as a baby."

Kate looked full at her; the girls were entering the hall. Molly laid her hand on Kate's arm.

"You do believe me—you must!" said Molly.

"No!" replied Kate.

Molly rushed away.