"Is there no possible way it could be arranged?" went on the President. "Is this decision of your mother's final?"
Evidently Mrs. Brown had not explained why Molly was obliged to come home.
"Oh, she didn't decide it," answered the young girl, quickly. "It's because—because the money's gone—lost."
"I suspected it was something of that sort," went on the President. "Now, there is a way, Miss Brown, by which you could remain if you would be willing to leave Queen's Cottage. I am in charge of a Student Fund for just such cases as yours. This provides for tuition and board,—not on the campus, but in the village. You're making something now tutoring the little Japanese girl, I understand. That's good. That will help along. You will have to manufacture some excuse to your friends about leaving Queen's. Otherwise, the fund arrangement may remain a secret between you and me."
Miss Walker pressed the girl's hand and smiled kindly as she searched her face for some sign of gladness and relief at this offer.
Molly tried to smile back.
"We'll leave everything as it is until the end of this semester," continued the President.
"Thank you very, very much," Molly said, making a great effort to keep her voice from sounding shaky.
Leave Queen's! Was it possible the President didn't know that life at Queen's was the best part of college to her? Would there be any pleasure left if she had to tear herself away from her beloved chums and take up quarters in the village, living on a charity fund?
When she separated from Miss Walker at the McLeans' front door, she was so filled with inward lamentations and weeping that she could scarcely say good-night to the President, who looked somewhat puzzled at the girl's still pale face.