"You rode—that way?" gasped Bobbie. "Without a saddle?"
"Why certainly. It was the best gallop I've had in months. Now,
naughty girls, wait. Sit down. I'm too excited to stand up. You" (to
Sally) "are Shirley Duncan, and you" (to Bobbie) "are Sally
Rowland?"
"Yes," replied both miserably.
Then she, whom we must know as the real Shirley, spoke.
"I know it must seem despicable, Miss Allen, but there was dear Ted, so disappointed, and he was such a splendid student. I could come here, but he simply had to have that two hundred dollars to go back to Yorktown." The voice took courage with its tale of loyalty.
"And you are simply a wonderful little girl to have managed it all," declared Jane, showing not a single trace of resentment. "It is actually fascinating—to think you actually exchanged identities!"
"But I had no such laudable excuse," moaned Bobbie. "My folks just wanted me to go to college—any old college in any old way—and we always thought dad's good honest money would pave the way. But it didn't, and I never could pass the exams, so I simply fell into this from sheer vanity."
"That is not so," expostulated the new Shirley. "Bobbie would never have dreamed such a thing if Dol Vin did not happen along with her wonderful plan. You may imagine she was the real brains—of the plot."
"Dol Vin—"
"Yes, she taught—a summer gym class at our place," explained Bobbie, "and when she heard my wail about not being able to get into college she offered the scheme. At first it did seem abhorrent, but she glossed it over so—"