Miriam flushed with shame and her lip quivered.

Seeing her distress, Grace went on quickly: 

“The janitress found your scarab pin just outside the door on the day of the game.  Anne has it here for you.”

Anne fumbled in her purse and drew out the pin.

“But how did you get it?” asked Miriam faintly, as she took the pin with evident reluctance.

“Miss Thompson gave it to me,” Anne answered.

Miriam looked frightened.  “Then she knows——­”

“Nothing,” said Grace softly.  “As soon as Anne heard that Miss Thompson had your pin and knew where it had been found, she went right to the office and asked Miss Thompson to give it to her.  Miss Thompson thought from the first that I had been the victim of a trick.  Anne knew that the finding of your pin would make her suspect you.  She had already sent for you when Anne reached the office.  Luckily you weren’t in school.  Anne asked permission to return the pin to you.  She wouldn’t give any reason for asking.  Finally Miss Thompson handed it to her, and told Anne she was sure she would do what was right.”

“You owe a great deal to Anne, Miriam,” Grace continued, “for if she had not gone to Miss Thompson I am afraid you would have been suspended from school.  Miss Thompson would have had very little mercy upon you, for she knew about those examination papers last June.”

Miriam looked so utterly miserable and ashamed at Grace’s words, that Anne hastened to say: 

“I would have given you your pin at once, Miriam, but you were away from school.  Then David told me how unhappy you seemed.  I hadn’t said a word to any one about the pin until I told Grace.  We decided to come and see you, and say that we were willing to ‘let bygones be bygones’ if you were.  We thought it was right to let you know that we knew everything.  There is only one other person who knows.  That person is your brother.”

“He knew I locked you up the day of the game,” faltered Miriam, “The way he looked at me has haunted me ever since.  He thinks me the most dishonorable girl in the world.”  She began to cry again.

Anne and Grace walked along silently beside the weeping girl.  They thought it better to let her have her cry out.  She really deserved to spend a brief season in the Valley of Humiliation.

They had now left the fields and were turning into one of the smaller streets of Oakdale.

“Miriam,” said Grace, “try and brace up.  We’ll soon be on Main Street and you don’t want people to see you cry, do you?  Here,” extracting a little book of rice powder paper from her bag, “rub this over your face and the marks of your tears won’t show.”

Miriam took the paper gratefully, and did as Grace bade her.  Then she straightened up and gave a long sigh, “I feel like that man in Pilgrim’s Progress, after he dropped his burden from his back,” she said.  “The mean things I did never bothered me until just lately.  After I saw that my own brother had nothing but contempt for me, I began to realize what a wretch I was, and the remorse has been just awful.”