The Christmas holidays passed all too quickly and were crowded to the utmost with good times. It was with a little reluctance that Jean took the noon train from New York on Wednesday, January eighth, for Boston. Tom went with her to the station and saw her safely aboard. There were many of the college girls on the train and as she went through the Pullman looking for her chair she heard Marjorie Remington calling her.

"Here's a vacant chair beside me, Jean. Come over and sit down in it, even if it isn't yours, and if any one comes in later to claim it you can move over into your own. I want to hear about your good times, and I've got just stacks to tell you."

The girls kept up a spirited conversation all the way to Boston and one incident followed another in rapid succession until Marjorie said, "Before we reach Boston I want to tell you a secret, Jean, but first you must promise me not to tell a soul at college." Jean promised faithfully, and Marjorie continued, "Jack and I are engaged. Here's my ring, but I don't dare wear it openly yet, so I shall put it on a chain and wear it around my neck under my dress where no one can see it. You see, father and mother don't quite approve of Jack and wouldn't allow me to announce my engagement, especially while I'm in college, but we couldn't wait any longer and Jack gave me the ring Christmas in a box of candy, so no one suspected. Isn't it a beautiful diamond? You know, Jack has plenty of money in his own name, but father doesn't always approve of the way he spends it. We haven't made any plans yet, but I think we'll be married in the fall. Jack graduates in June, and I surely am not coming back to Ashton another year. I almost fear I'll flunk out at midyear's, but I'm going to dig hard from now on, for I want to be in the East until June and if I should flunk it would be home for me and no Jack.

"To think you haven't met him yet! Well, you will to-day, for he's going to meet me at the train if he possibly can. He had to go back earlier than I, for Harvard began last week. I think I'll stay in town for an early dinner, but I'll be out before eight. I suppose you're looking forward with joy to your duties as proctor of fourth floor. I don't envy you your honor; I suppose it will be thrust upon me soon, for it must be getting pretty near my turn. Well, I sha'n't bother you, for it's study for mine every minute till midyear's. The costume party is the only dissipation that I can allow myself. I made the dandiest costume at home, but I can't tell you what it is. Did you make one?"

"No, I haven't had time even to think about one, but I'll fix up something myself, or hire a costume in town. Like you, I'm going to study as hard as I can so I sha'n't have time for anything else. I'm awfully surprised to hear you're engaged. Do you think it's just right to keep it from your father and mother? I should think you'd want them to know about it first. I should if it were I."

"But I shouldn't dare tell them now. I'm hoping they'll feel all right about it later. We're almost in Boston now. I do hope nothing will keep Jack from meeting me."

Marjorie was not to be disappointed, for Jack was at the station to meet her, and she proudly introduced him to Jean. He invited her to accompany them up town for dinner, but she declined and left them at the Elevated. When she arrived at Merton she found Elizabeth had not come, but she knew the last train from Wilton Junction reached Boston about eight and she felt sure Elizabeth would take that one.

She was not mistaken, and about half-past eight Elizabeth arrived, very tired from her hard trip. After she had removed her hat and coat, she said, "Has Marjorie Remington returned yet, Jean?"

"I don't know, Elizabeth. I came on with her from New York, but I left her in Boston and she said she was coming out after an early dinner. Why do you ask?"

"I came out from Boston with a girl I thought was she, but she was with some fellow I never have seen out here. They were walking up the Row very slowly and as I passed them they were talking together very earnestly. From what I heard I could not believe it was Marjorie in spite of the fact that it looked so much like her."

"Probably it was Jack Goodrich from Harvard. He lives in Detroit and he and Marjorie have always been good friends. Now tell me about your vacation."

They began an exchange of experiences but were interrupted every few minutes by girls coming in to welcome them back. Nearly every one ended with, "Did you make your costume for Monday night?" It was late when Jean and Elizabeth found themselves alone without fear of further interruption. "Jean," said Elizabeth, "I want to thank you for what you did for us all at Christmas, and most of all for Brother's gift. He has written you, too, but I must tell you all that it means to me, for I feel as though it were benefiting me as much as him. To think that he can go to college next year! I can hardly believe it now, although I have thought and talked of little else all the vacation. How could you be so generous?"

"Oh, let's not talk about it, Elizabeth. You know I have more spending money than I know how to use, and father helped some because I wrote him all about Dick and his patience and courage and talent. You can finish your course, too, perhaps, and Dick be in college at the same time. So let's not ever say anything more about it."

The costume party was to be held in the dining-room, reading-room, and hall of Merton, and all the afternoon the girls strung Japanese lanterns and brought down furniture from rooms above to make as many cozy corners as space allowed. Supper was to be a little early, and after it was over the tables and chairs were to be moved out and the floors waxed. The electric lights were covered with red paper to dim their brightness, and the piano was moved out into the center of the living-room so that the music could be heard better in all the rooms.

By eight o'clock most of the girls were downstairs, and in their costumes and masks presented an attractive appearance. Half of the girls wore men's costumes of all periods, and there were kings and queens, clowns and French dolls, Quakers and follies, peasant maids from many countries, shepherds and shepherdesses, Topsies, Marguerites and priests, nuns and dancing maids were present, and others too numerous to mention. A local pianist had been hired, and she was the only one in the room not in costume. Even Mrs. Thompson was somewhere in the merry throng.

There was first a grand march to be followed by dancing until ten o'clock, when the unmasking was to take place and light refreshments served. Gradually, little groups of girls thought they recognized each other and surmised the identity of certain others. Jean and Elizabeth and Sallie Lawrence were resting after a strenuous Virginia Reel. "Who is that couple who have danced together all the evening, the tall monk and the demure sister of charity? Probably she thinks it's her duty to confess to him for her worldly dissipation. The sister of charity looks like Marjorie Remington, but who can the monk be? Marjorie doesn't generally remain so faithful to one partner," said Sallie.

"It is Marjorie," said Jean; "I can tell her walk anywhere and I'm sure those are her pumps. She told me she bought them in Detroit this last vacation. I'm sure I can't imagine who her partner is. The tallest girl I know is Mary Stickney. It must be she, but isn't it queer Marjorie should care to dance so often with her? Probably she thinks it's more picturesque to dance with a monk. I remember asking Mary this afternoon if she was going to-night and she said she didn't believe so, but if she did she'd have to get up something very simple at the last moment. That monk's costume is surely the simplest one here."

After several of the girls had asked the charming sister of charity to dance and she had shaken her pretty head and persisted in dancing with the monk, all the others began to wonder a bit and talk among themselves. "Who is the monk?" was on everybody's tongue, and it was pretty generally conceded to be Mary Stickney.

Just before ten the monk and his fair partner slowly left the main room for a lemonade table at the end of the hall. Most of the others were dancing, but Jean, very tired with the excitement of the evening, had slipped alone into a little cozy corner just beyond the lemonade table. She did not intend to watch or to listen, but she could not help herself. When the two dancers were left to themselves, she heard Marjorie Remington say, "Hasn't it been splendid, Jack? Not a soul ever would suspect, for you certainly took every precaution. But I think you'd better go now, for it's almost time to unmask. Take off your robe and mask in the outer hall and you'll find your cap and coat and shoes in my suit-case there in the right-hand corner. You'll not meet any one, for everybody in the house is at the dance and it's too late for outsiders to be coming in. Still, be cautious. Let me know how you get back to Cambridge, and come out as soon as you can. Good night, dear. Don't let anything happen to you." And the black-robed priest disappeared from view and the demure little sister of charity sat down a few minutes in the dimly-lighted hall to rest.

Jean did not leave the cozy corner until she was sure Marjorie had joined the dancers. She leaned back against the pillows, faint with astonishment and dismay. What should she do? One idea after another rushed through her brain and confused her more and more. She must act quickly, or it would be too late. Stealing into the outer hall she found the black robe and mask Jack had left there and she put them on over her Old Mother Hubbard costume. She knew she was not as tall as Jack was, but still there was not such a great difference and it was worth the risk. Slowly wending her way back into the main room, she found the sister of charity just about to dance with a Little Boy Blue. She put her arm round Marjorie and drew her away before Little Boy Blue realized what was happening.

Marjorie herself was so astonished she could say nothing at first, but after a moment whispered, "Jack, how careless; you must go. We're going to unmask after this dance and if you're found here I'll be expelled to-morrow." But the monk answered never a word, but danced as smoothly and gently as though he had heard nothing. Again Marjorie whispered, "Oh, Jack, you must go! Don't wait another minute or I'm lost."

Just then the music stopped and some one cried, "Masks off!" and there was a general pulling off of masks amid peals of laughter. As Marjorie gazed into Jean's face a look of terror settled over her own as she gasped "You!" but Jean said quietly, "We'll talk about it later up in your room. Don't leave until the others do," and she hurried away. There were many surprises at the unmasking, but the greatest was Jean's. Several of the girls, among them Elizabeth and Sallie, declared they had recognized her earlier in the evening in another costume, but she refused to answer except as she whispered in Elizabeth's ear, "Don't ask too many questions. Trust me; it's all right."

Then the refreshments were served and still there was time for a few more dances. Jean went to the piano and offered to play so that the pianist might dance a little. Really, Jean needed to think and be away from the girls. She hardly knew what she was playing, so absorbed was she with the thought of what Marjorie had done and what she as proctor of fourth floor must do before very long. Such a thing could not be passed by unnoticed, and still what a terrible thing it would be to have Marjorie expelled through her. She had heard of people sacrificing duty for friendship, and she wondered what she would do when it came time to decide. Once the room seemed to grow black and she thought she would fall off the stool, but by a supreme effort she shook off the approaching faintness and finished the waltz she was playing. Then she arose and left the piano and walked over to Mrs. Thompson. "I think I will be excused, if you please, Mrs. Thompson. I feel a little tired. It's been a splendid party. Good night."

Elizabeth was watching her and noticed her pallor and swaying body. "What is the matter, Jean? What has happened? This isn't a bit like you. Can I help you?"

"No, Elizabeth; I shall be all right as soon as I get upstairs. Please don't leave until the others do." Then she crept up the stairs and when she entered her own room she closed the door and locked it. She quickly tore off the two costumes, leaving the black one on the couch where Elizabeth would be sure to see it; then she threw the Old Mother Hubbard dress into a trunk which was in her closet, closed the lid, and locked it. Putting on her kimona she sat down to think and wait for the girls to come upstairs.

When Elizabeth entered the room, Jean was more like herself and talked gayly about the girls' costumes. "I'll go out in the corridor and put out the lights, and I've got a message to deliver to one of the girls, so don't wait up for me." She put out all the lights on fourth floor and then walked slowly up and down the corridor three or four times before knocking softly at Marjorie's door. Without waiting for her to reply, Jean entered the room and closed the door gently after her.

"Marjorie, remember I come here to-night as proctor as well as friend. What you have done is awful. I can hardly think about it calmly. How did you dare think of such a thing? You've broken every rule of our house, you've deceived every girl here and Mrs. Thompson as well, you've committed an offense worthy of expulsion, you've disgraced yourself and all the rest of us. Now what's to be done? I'm the only girl who knows what has happened, although others were mystified at my being the monk and the Mother Hubbard, too. That will be forgotten in a day or two, but what you have done is of more serious import. You wonder why I dressed up in Jack's costume? I was tired of dancing and went out into the cozy corner beyond the lemonade table to rest a little. Before I had been there long you and Jack came and I could not help overhearing your conversation. After he had gone I knew you would go back to the other rooms alone and every one would wonder where your constant attendant had gone. Questions would be asked and you would have to give some sort of an explanation. The idea came to me to put on Jack's costume for the remainder of the evening and save you from a difficult position. Now I have given you an explanation of my conduct and I ask for one of yours."

"There isn't one, Jean; except that when I told Jack about the party he suggested that he come out, too, dressed as a monk. He planned everything so well that I thought there was no danger and it was a lark. I was tired of dancing with girls and I longed for a dance with a real man, and you know Jack dances divinely. I guess Ashton is no place for me, after all, and you might as well have it out to-morrow and get me expelled. I don't mind leaving college, but I hate to go home and have Jack so far away. It's a long time till June, and I'll be awfully lonesome out there without him."

"No, Marjorie; I don't want you publicly expelled. I'm sorrier for you than I've ever been for any one in all my life. I wish I were not proctor to-night, and I'd say nothing about it. As it is I shall not report you unless you refuse to comply with my plans. You are to leave college to-morrow. You'll say you were called home unexpectedly. I'll leave the reason to you, but I must see you on the train for Detroit and see the telegram you send home to your father to meet you. Jack is to know nothing about it until you write him from Detroit. You can pack what clothes you need and I will see that the other things are sent on at your request. You say that you never have cared for college, but I am sure you prefer to leave it honorably rather than in disgrace. Will you think it over to-night and let me know your decision in the morning? If you do not come down to breakfast I shall know you have decided to do as I suggest, and I promise you, under those conditions I shall never say a word to any one about the affair. I hope you'll do the right thing. Good night."

Before noon the next day all Merton was talking about Marjorie Remington's sudden call home. Lill Spalding and Jean helped her pack and went in town with her to see her take the late afternoon train for Detroit. At night the excitement had somewhat subsided, for Marjorie's friends had been few and the others were little concerned with her affairs. There were much more serious matters pending, for midyear's examinations were only three weeks away and the midnight oil was already beginning to be burned.