But Jennie Bruce came back to Pinewood Hall after the holidays with no news of importance for her roommate and chum.

“I saw that red-headed boy,” she said. “My goodness me, Nance! what a freak he is,” and Jennie burst into laughter at the remembrance of Scorch O’Brien. “John and I took him to luncheon and John couldn’t eat for laughing at him.”

“I think Scorch is real nice,” said Nancy, smiling reflectively.

“Oh, he’s strong for you, all right,” admitted Jennie, nodding. “He thinks you are about the only girl who ever came into his sweet young life

“What nonsense!” said Nancy, blushing, but smiling, too.

“All right. He’s willing to go to desperate lengths to help you, just the same,” and Jennie smiled in remembrance of the red-haired youth’s enthusiasm.

“I guess it’s mostly talk. Scorch dearly loves to talk,” said Nancy.

“He wanted John to help him rob ‘Old Gordon’s’ private safe,” laughed Jennie. “He says he believes there are papers in that safe that would explain all about you. He wanted John to stay over that night and stand watch while he, Scorch, opened the safe with something he called a jimmy!”

“The ridiculous boy!” said Nancy.

“But I tell you!” exclaimed Jennie, “John works for a man who knows your Mr. Gordon. John is going to get Mr. Pennywell to find out if he can from Mr. Gordon if he really knows more about your folks than he is willing to tell you. Mr. Pennywell is a client and a good client of your Mr. Gordon. Hateful old thing!”

“But perhaps he isn’t hateful,” Nancy objected, shaking her head.

“I bet he is. Scorch says he is hiding something. That boy is bright.”

“Really brilliant when it comes to his hair,” suggested Nancy, laughing.

But there were so many other things to take up the thoughts of the two chums after this brief separation, that the mystery about Nancy figured little in their activities for a time.

Nancy’s new dignity as president of the class bore heavily upon her at first, for she feared that she would not discharge her duty to the other freshmen in a proper way.

The Montgomery clique was of course a continual thorn in her side. It never numbered, however, more than eight or ten girls of that class. Grace made many of her friends in the sophomore class.

The teachers, however, were decidedly in favor of Nancy. She gained the head of her classes in most studies, and did not slight lessons to join in the fun of the other girls. Yet she was no prig no matter what Grace and Cora said.

A rather solemn thought had come to the girl on the night of that day when she had started to run away from Pinewood Hall. Suppose she should, suddenly and without warning, be thrown upon her own resources?

Most girls of Nancy’s age do not think of such unpleasant things. Nor, in many cases, could such an unhappy turn of circumstances affect them.

Yet it might happen at any time to Nancy. That was the way she felt about it.

Suppose the mysterious fountain from which, through the channel of Mr. Gordon, flowed the money to support her, suddenly should dry up?

She could be pretty sure that Mr. Gordon would not go on supporting her and paying for her schooling, and all. No, indeed! He had not struck Nancy in her single interview with him as being that sort of a man.

So with this thought hovering in the background Nancy made the most of her opportunities as the days passed. She was determined to learn everything Pinewood Hall and its mistress and instructors had to teach her.

She learned to be an expert typewriter before Easter, and improved her spelling immensely. Other girls had the same opportunity, if they cared to exercise it; for there were plenty of machines they could learn on as Nancy did. But few of the girls at Pinewood Hall cared to take “extras.” Most of their parents were very well-to-do, and why should they exert themselves to merely practical things?

Nancy took up stenography with gentle Miss Meader, too. The latter acted as the Madame’s secretary, so she had practical use for shorthand. She and Nancy corresponded daily in the “pothooks,” as Jennie Bruce called the stenographic signs.

Nevertheless, Nancy managed to cram into her waking hours an immense amount of fun as well as lessons. The Madame did not believe that all work was good for Jill, any more than it is good for Jack.

When the snow came there was sleigh-riding, class parties being made up while the moon was big, the girls going off in great “barges,” which would hold from forty to sixty of them, and stopping at a certain country tavern, of which Madame Schakael approved, where hot oyster stews were served.

Then, before Lent, there was the big dance of the year, when the girls of Pinewood Hall and the boys of the Clinton Academy mingled under the shrewd eyes of their respective heads.

Dr. Dudley was a solemn, long-faced, stiff-looking old gentleman, with a great mop of sandy hair brushed off his high brow, who never looked really dressed unless he had on a tall hat and a frock coat. In dancing pumps and a white waistcoat and tail coat he looked rather ridiculous.

And when he led out Madame Schakael who looked like a sweet-faced French doll for the grand march, they really did look funny together.

But it was no stiff and formal ball after the “heads” of the two schools were off the floor. The boys and girls had a most delightful time even Nancy enjoyed it, although she, like most of the freshmen, played wallflower a good part of the time.

Nancy saw Bob Endress, but merely to bow to. He seemed always to have his “hands full” with the older girls, or with Grace Montgomery and her satellites. But Nancy’s mind lingered upon boys very little. She danced with other girls and had quite as good a time, she was sure, as she should have had had Bob Endress danced every number with her.

So passed the winter and the spring, and the Easter holidays came. Nancy had received a very prettily-worded invitation from Jennie’s mother to spend these with them.

It was the first invitation of the kind Nancy Nelson had ever received, so you can imagine how overjoyed she was. Madame Schakael approved. Then it was necessary to get Mr. Gordon’s permission.

Nancy had thanked Mr. Gordon for the twenty-dollar bill he had sent her, but had not heard personally from him in reply. She had broken an understood rule, too, to write twice to Scorch O’Brien just little notes thanking him for remembering her.

By the way, the twenty dollars that had been lent to Cora Rathmore to pay for the famous supper in Number 30 when Nancy had been frozen out, had never been returned, either completely, or in part. Cora Rathmore seemed to have forgotten her debt to Nancy when she returned from her holiday at Christmas time.

Corinne suspected that Nancy had not been repaid; but nobody else really knew anything about it not even Jennie. Nancy would not talk about it when some of the girls became curious.

She had not needed the money for anything. At New Year’s Mr. Gordon had sent her a ten-dollar note, but through Madame Schakael. When she asked him if she could go home with Jennie Bruce over Easter, he sent her at once another twenty dollars and his permission the latter just as short as it could be written.

Scorch evidently watched the mail basket on Mr. Gordon’s desk with the eye of an eagle. A second letter with the card of the law firm upon it was put into Nancy’s hand almost in the same mail with Mr. Gordon’s letter. Such letters passed through the Madame’s hands without being opened. It was a secret that troubled Nancy sometimes; yet she could not “give Scorch away.” This was Scorch’s letter:

“Dear Miss Nancy:

“I see Old Gordon has risked another perfectly good yellow-back in the mail. He’ll ruin the morals of the mail clerks (I rote that word ‘mail’ wrong before) if he keeps on. Know how I seen the yellow-back in the letter? I punched a hole with a pin in the crease of the envelope at each end. Squeeze the sides of the envelope together a little and then squint through from one hole to the other. That’s an old one.

I want you to know I’m on the job. That Jennie girl you sent to me is some peach; but she ain’t in your class for looks, just the same. Her brother is a pretty good feller, too; but we couldn’t get together on any scheme for jolting what you want to know out of Old Gordon. The time will come, just the same. When it does, I’m little Johnny On-the-Spot don’t forget that.

So no more at present, from

“Yours very respectfully,
“Scorch O’Brien.”

There was not time to answer Scorch at once; but when Nancy was at Jennie’s home the girls wrote to the office boy of Ambrose, Necker & Boles and invited him to come out to see them. But Scorch was bashful and did not come; so Nancy returned to Pinewood without seeing her champion.

A great many things happened after that spring vacation the last half of Nancy’s freshman term which might be told about; but we may only relate a few of them.

Her record was splendid. Her government of her class satisfied everybody but the Montgomery faction. Grace and Cora did all they safely could throughout the term to trouble Nancy. Sometimes they succeeded; but she had learned not to “carry her heart on her sleeve.”

Corinne, Carrie, and the rest of the seniors were all in a flutter because of approaching graduation. The other girls junior, sophomore, and freshman often discussed eagerly what the summer vacation had in store for them.

For the first time in her young life, Nancy Nelson looked forward, too, to the summer with delight. She was going home with Jennie just as soon as school closed that is, unless Mr. Gordon should object. And it was not believed that he would.

Jennie’s parents and brothers and sisters were just as well pleased with the quiet little orphan as Jennie herself had been. They were glad to have her in their big house between terms.

So June approached, and the yearly exams, and other finishing work, loomed ahead.

Pinewood Hall was a beautiful place now. The park was in its very best condition. Mr. Pease and Samuel, and their helpers, made every path straight and clean, raked the groves of all rubbish, and the two horse mowers and the roller were at work on the lawns, making them like velvet carpets.

Nancy came out of Jessie Pease’s cottage one day to see a handsome man in a gray suit, with gray spats, and gray hair, and even a gray silk shirt, walking slowly up the drive toward the Hall. In the shade of the trees (it was a hot day) he removed his gray, broad-brimmed hat. And out of that hat fell his handkerchief.

When Nancy, hastening, picked up this article, she found that it was silk, with a gray border, too, and an initial in one corner. The initial was “M.”

“You dropped this, sir, I think,” she said, timidly, coming abreast of the stranger.

He turned to look at her. He had heavy, smoothly-shaven jowls and not a very healthy complexion. His eyes were little, and green. Nancy had expected to see a very handsome, noble-looking old gentleman. Instead, she saw a very sly-looking man, with something mean and furtive in his manner, despite his fine build and immaculate dress.

“Ah! thank you, thank you, my pretty miss,” he said, accepting the handkerchief. “It is a very warm day.”

“Yes, sir,” responded Nancy, politely.

“And you, I suppose, go to school here at Pinewood?”

“Oh, yes.”

“A beautiful place! A very beautiful place,” said the stranger. “You may be acquainted with a girl named Montgomery, now?”

“Yes, sir,” said Nancy, with gravity.

“Now, where might she be found at this hour?”

Nancy chanced to have seen Grace and some of her satellites sitting in a pergola on a mound not far away. She pointed out the path to the stranger.

“Thank you thank you, my dear,” said the gray man, and insisted upon shaking hands with her.

Indeed, he looked curiously after her as she passed on. Then, as he turned to follow the path pointed out to him, he shook his head, saying, under his breath:

“Strange! Familiar, somehow. Looks familiar

A cry warned him that he was seen. Flying down from the pergola came Grace, with Cora close behind her.

“Oh, Father! you dear! I’m so glad to see you!” exclaimed Grace.

“So unexpected, dear Senator Montgomery,” said Cora, in quite a grown-up way.

The Senator welcomed them; but he looked again after the retreating Nancy.

“Who is that pretty girl, Grace?” he asked, pointing out the object of his interest.

“Pretty girl, indeed!” ejaculated Cora, under her breath.

“Why it’s nobody but that Nelson Nancy Nelson. A mere nobody.”

“What name did you say?” demanded the senator, his green eyes very bright for a moment, and a little color coming into his face.

“Nancy Nelson.”

“Who is she?”

“That’s what we all ask,” remarked his daughter, with an unpleasant laugh.

“Why do you say that, Grace?”

“Why, she’s a nobody. She’s got no friends, and no home it’s a disgrace to have her here at Pinewood. I wish you’d say something to the Madame about her.”

“They tried to make me room with her,” said Cora Rathmore, boldly; “but I wouldn’t stand for that long.”

The Senator looked grave. “Come, tell me all about Nancy Nelson,” he enjoined them, and sat down on a neighboring bench to listen.

Grace and Cora told their highly-colored version of the story circulated about Nancy during the first few weeks of her sojourn at Pinewood Hall.

“And do tell Madame Schakael what you think of her letting such a girl into the school,” begged Grace, as the Senator arose and started towards the Hall again.

He did not say that he would. But to himself the Senator muttered, with puckered brow and half-shut eyes:

“Who would have thought it! That girl here right where I sent Grace! I I certainly shall have to see Gordon about this. Hang his impudence! What does he mean by sending that girl to a place like this?”