Marjorie was behind in her studies; college , class affairs, and most of all, Girl , had crowded them out temporarily. But she was not a girl to let them slide indefinitely; to have to report “unprepared” more than once at a recitation troubled her conscience. So, contrary to her custom, she to devote Sunday to work.  
She had mentioned this fact to John Hadley as they left the meeting the previous evening, and he had willingly fallen in with her plans, knowing that Wednesday evening would be his.
 
“Just so long as you promise not to worry over this unpleasantness,” he agreed. “It isn’t worth it.”
 
Marjorie laughed lightly; she had learned to be a philosopher.
 
“They certainly do get provoked easily,” she remarked. “But I think Queenie was in the right——those girls never exerted themselves in the least way to pass that tenderfoot test.”
 
“Then you mean to uphold her in keeping them out of the troop?”
 
“I don’t think there will be any effort attached to it. They probably never would bother to study to get into it.”
 
John looked relieved; he had feared that the little scene would mean anxiety for Marjorie.
 
“Then I’ll leave you to your studies all day tomorrow,” he concluded, as he left her.
 
Marjorie intended to be as good as her word. While the other girls loitered in the dining-room over their breakfast on Sunday morning, or strolled into the library to look over the magazines and papers on the tables, she went directly to her own room, and assembled her Latin books. It was thus employed that Lily found her, after church.
 
“Going to spend the afternoon with John, Marj?” she inquired, dropping down upon the couch.
 
“No,” replied her room-mate, without raising her eyes from the dictionary she was consulting—“with Horace.”
 
“Horace!” repeated Lily, failing to catch the significance of the remark. “His name isn’t Horace. It’s Walter.”
 
“Wrong again, Lil! I haven’t any engagement with Mr. Richards, if that’s whom you’re referring to. I mean this ‘Horace’—” She held up her Latin book—“Shall I introduce you?”
 
“No, thank you,” returned Lily. “I’ve met him quite often enough—I think I can easily do without him for today. Do you honestly mean that you’re going to stay inside all this beautiful afternoon and dig?”
 
“If I don’t have any interruptions. Of course I may go out for a little air, if I get caught up in what I am doing. But please don’t me, Lil!”
 
“I won’t, if you’ve made up your mind. I’m sincerely sorry for you, but I’ll leave you to your lonely fate.”
 
“Thanks, you’re a dear. And Lil, will you tell the other girls that might want to include me?”
 
“Oh, nobody would think of expecting you for Sunday afternoon. It’s a foregone conclusion that you’ll spend it with John.”
 
“Very kind of them, I’m sure,” muttered Marjorie.
 
The girls of her troop, however, were not so considerate. Early in the afternoon Gertie Reed and Mame Collins put in an appearance, and, in spite of her to see anyone, and especially those two girls, she put her work aside and went down stairs.
 
“I am glad to see you, girls,” she said, with a certain reserve in her tone. “It will be better to clear up last night’s misunderstanding as soon as possible.”
 
“Yea—that’s why we come,” Gertie told her.
 
“Of course. Shall we sit down—or would you rather go for a walk?”
 
“Oh, let’s sit down. We can hash things over easier that way.”
 
“Maybe,” suggested Marjorie, “it would be nicer up in my . My room-mate’s out, so we’d be alone.”
 
“All right! Suits us,” agreed Gertie. “One place is as good as another.”
 
They the stairway, Marjorie all the while racking her brains to decide upon the best manner in which to treat the subject. Gertie, however, was evidently not worried about such a detail, for she was too much concerned with the effort it required to the steps.
 
“Should have thought you’d have an elevator,” she . “If I’d a known what a climb it was, I’d just as soon stayed where we was.”
 
“I’m sorry,” apologized Marjorie, “but we never think of it—we’re so used to it. Of course there is an elevator, but nobody ever remembers to use it unless they’re sick or hurt.”
 
“Guess I’ll survive!” rejoined the other, more cheerfully.
 
Once they were in the room, Gertie into a against her patrol leader.
 
“Queenie Brazier thinks she’s some punkins to pull the wool over your eyes like she’s doin’, Miss Wilkinson. But I’m here to tell you that she ain’t a goin’ a get away with it, long as I’m around and she treats me like she done last night.
 
“She pretends to be the sweet, innocent babe, that does just what the teacher tells her, but she’s as hard-boiled as the rest of us. If you knew what I do about her and this here Sam she picked up at the park, you wouldn’t be treatin’ her so fine.”
 
Marjorie’s brow clouded; above everything else128 she hated gossip. Was this the reason that Gertie had come to see her, just to tell tales on Queenie, and not to apologize for her own conduct the previous evening? How differently Queenie had acted, when she was in the wrong!
 
“She’s a goin’ it pretty strong—every night in the week, ’cept Saturday,” Gertie continued. “And—” she lowered her tone to a whisper—“her family ain’t on to it, neither!”
 
“But Gertie,” Marjorie interrupted, , “I didn’t think you came out here to talk about Queenie. I want to talk about you—and Mame.” She nodded toward the other girl, who up to this time had taken no part in the conversation.
 
“What’s there to say about us?” demanded the latter, in surprise.
 
Marjorie came directly to her point.
 
“Why—lots! Do you intend to g............