So Grace told Mrs. Gray the story of Anne’s father, beginning from where he had intercepted Anne on her way from the aeroplane exhibition during her freshman year, up to the time of the arrival of his letter begging for money.

“Anne used her freshman prize money last year to help him out of trouble.  He forged a friend’s name for one hundred dollars, and would have had to go to prison had she not made good the money he took, I always wanted you to know about it, Mrs. Gray, but Anne felt so badly over it, she begged me never to tell any one.”

“Your story explains a great many things I never before understood,” said Mrs. Gray.  “That doll that was sent to the Christmas party last year, for instance.  But how did Miriam find out about it?”

“We don’t know,” said Grace.  “Her doings are dark and mysterious.  Find out she did; and she has told the story with considerable effect among the girls.”

“It is too bad,” mused Mrs. Gray.  “I should like to right matters were it possible, but as long as you don’t wish it, my dear, I suppose I must let you fight it out by yourselves.  But one thing I am sure of, Anne shall never want for a friend as long as I live.  Now run along and have a good time.  I’ve kept you here when you might have been dancing.”

“I have loved being with you,” said Grace.  “I shall not tell Anne about what was said,” she added in a lower tone.

“That is right, Grace,” responded Mrs. Gray.  “No need of hurting the child’s feelings.”

During the balance of the evening nothing occurred to discomfit either Grace or Anne.  To be sure there was a marked coolness exhibited by most of their classmates, but David took charge of Anne and saw to it that nothing disturbed her.  Grace, who was a general favorite with the High School boys of Oakdale, could have filled her programme three times over.  She was the embodiment of life and danced with such apparent unconcern that the mind of more than one sophomore was divided as to whether to cleave to Miriam or renew their former allegiance to Grace.

It was well after one o’clock when the “Home, Sweet Home” waltz sounded.  The floor was well filled with dancers, for the majority of the guests had remained until the end of the ball.  As the last strains of the music died away the sophomores sent their class yell echoing through the gymnasium.  It was answered by the various yells of the other classes, given with true High School fervor.  Each class trying to outdo the other in the making of noise.

Sleepy chaperons began gathering up their charges.  The sophomore ball was a thing of the past.

“These late hours and indigestible suppers are bound to break down my delicate constitution yet,” Hippy confided to Nora.

“In that case I shall make it a point to see that you don’t receive any more invitations to our parties,” Nora answered cruelly.  “Then you can stay at home and build up that precious health of yours.”