“Well, Marian cried some more,” continued Ruth, “and Eleanor made a number of other spiteful remarks and walked out with a perfectly hateful look of triumph on her face.”

“And what about Marian?” asked Grace.

“She didn’t go back to the study hall.  She told Miss Thompson that she was ill and went home.”

“Poor Marian,” said Grace.  “She certainly has been very foolish to leave her real friends and put her faith in people like Eleanor and that Henry Hammond.  I have been afraid all along that she would be bitterly disillusioned.  I think I’d better go to see her to-night.”

“Why, I thought she wasn’t on speaking terms with the Phi Sigma Tau!” exclaimed Ruth.

“Speaking terms or not, I’m going to find out what the trouble is and straighten it out if I can.  Please don’t tell that to any one, Ruth.  I don’t imagine it’s anything serious.  Eleanor always goes to extremes.”

“Trust me, Grace, not to say a word,” was the response.

“I wish Anne were here,” mused Grace, as she took her seat and drew out her text-book on second year French.  Then for the time being she dismissed Marian from her mind, and turned her attention to the lesson on hand.

By the time school closed that afternoon Grace had made up her mind to go to see Marian before going home.  Leaving Nora and Jessica at the usual corner, she walked on for a block, then turned into the street where the Barbers lived.

Grace pulled the bell rather strenuously by way of expressing her feelings, and waited.

“Is Marian in?” she inquired of Alice, the old servant.

“Yes, Miss Grace,” answered the woman, “She’s in the sittin’ room, walk right in there.  It’s a long time since I seen you here, Miss Grace.”

“Yes, it is, Alice,” replied Grace with a smile, then walked on into the room.

Over in one corner, huddled up on the wide leather couch, was Marian.  Her eyes were swollen and red, and she looked ill and miserable.

“Marian,” began Grace, “Ruth Deane told me you were ill, and so I came to see you.”

“Go away,” muttered Marian.  “I don’t wish to see you.”

“I am not so sure of that,” answered Grace.  “I understand you have been having some trouble with Eleanor, and that she has threatened revenge.”

“Who told you?” cried Marian, sitting up and looking angrily at Grace.  “I can manage my own affairs, without any of your help.”

“Very well,” replied Grace quietly.  “Then I had better go.  I thought when I came that I might be able to help you.  You look both ill and unhappy.  I see I have been mistaken.”

“You can’t help me,” replied Marian, her chin beginning to quiver.  “Nobody can help me.  I’m the most miserable girl—­” her voice ended in a wail, and she rocked to and fro upon the couch, sobbing wildly.

“Listen to me, Marian,” commanded Grace firmly.  “You must stop crying and tell me every single thing about this trouble of yours.  I have crossed swords with Eleanor before this, and I think I can bring her to reason.”