"It is no secret now," said Cecil; "all the world knows, or, at least, all our school world knows, that you have been confided in, and that you are supposed to be the betrayer. How in the world did the story get out?"
"That I can't tell," said Molly. "It is a mystery which I can't explain."
"Are you quite certain there was no one near?"
"Quite, quite, quite! Don't you know the house in the playground, Cecil? It is nothing but a bare room—just a few chairs and a couple of benches, and lots of hooks on the walls to hang up our cricket and tennis bats. We had the summerhouse to ourselves, and there was not a soul in sight."
"I must try and get to the bottom of this," said Cecil.
"What do you mean to do? I feel quite in despair. I shall, of course, tell Kate the moment I see her that I am quite innocent, that she is unjust in suspecting me; but I greatly fear, from her manner to-night, and from her refusing to see me, that she will not believe my word."
"Dear Molly, she shall believe you yet," said Cecil, in a caressing voice.
Molly leaned up against her friend.
"It is such a comfort to have you in school, Ceci," she said. "Oh, it is very wrong of me to think so much of myself in this matter."
"How can you help it, you poor dear? You, of all people, to be suspected of this sort of thing; but, never mind, I am going to take it up now."