"'Tain't that," corrected Inez recklessly, "it's just because we are
all too lazy to do the things we know Jane will do. I have been
reading up on psychology, and you may now expect me to spoil every
dream of childhood with a reason why," and Inez threw her head up
prophetically.

"Alluring prospects this year," groaned Velma Sigsbee. "What with
Maud gone scientific, and Inez turned psychologist and Jane Allen
traveling with her head down--well, all I can say is I still take
two lumps of sugar in my tea." Velma was just that way, a pretty
girl who loved sugar in spite of restrictions, high prices and the
written word.

A solitary figure was now outlined against the low cedars curled
around Linger Lane. It was Jane at last.

"Here she comes! Here she comes!" announced Nettie Brocton. "And
look, girls! she isn't even whistling. Something is wrong with our
sunny Jane."

There was no mistake about it, something was wrong, for Jane Allen
swung along the path, calling greetings to friends grouped in knots
and colonies with an evident half heartedness foreign to her usual
buoyant, cheerful personality.

Espying her own contingent on the poplar slope she threw her arms
out in a reckless, boyish sort of gesture to give force to the
"Hello girls!" she called, but even that was much too mild for Jane.

"We were in despair," began Judith, Jane's particular friend and