"Oh, Alma darling, you mustn't think that simply because a girl has money and position and influence that she is, on the face of that, a valuable friend. A girl like Mildred is very fickle, anyway. To-day she may want to do everything in the world for you, and to-morrow she may hardly speak to you. So long as you follow her blindly, she may show a great fancy for you, but if you were to follow your own ideas, contrary to her, she would quarrel with you in a minute."
"I don't believe that of Mildred," exclaimed Alma, with sudden defiance. "You have no idea how generous she is, and—and how broad-minded. I'm sure that you are prejudiced against her, Nancy. I know that she often appears to be rather a snob, but in reality she isn't one at all. Yesterday was no more her fault than it was mine. I was just as wrong as she was."
"Yes, but you were unhappy because you had done it, and Mildred isn't unhappy about it at all—as a matter of fact, she thinks that it was quite a clever thing to do."
Alma was silent. Then she said, presently:
"I can't quarrel with her."
"You don't have to quarrel with her. I never asked you to do that. I said only to think and act as you know to be right. Certainly, then, if she grows cool with you, she will respect you more. I—I hate to see my sister so absolutely a—a—I mean I hate to see you doing blindly everything Mildred does. Because she thinks it silly and 'high-brow' to study hard, you don't study. I hate to see you so afraid to lose a friend that you will go against your own conscience and judgment just to keep her good-will. It's just—snobbery, Alma—and it's worse than even Mildred's snobbery, because it's cowardly, while hers is just—impudent."
"I won't let you say such things, Nancy," cried Alma, shaking off her sister's hand. "I—I couldn't go on rooming with Mildred if I believed what you say of her, and I won't listen to you."
"Oh, Alma—don't, don't let us quarrel again," pleaded Nancy. "Why can't you believe that it's almost unbearably hard for me to say these things to you? I am a coward, too, because I'm so afraid of losing one little jot of your affection, that I would rather a thousand times hold my tongue than say anything to make you angry. But I can't be silent."
"You've made me more unhappy now than I was before," said Alma, sullenly. "Do you want me to be a hypocrite, and pretend to be fond of Mildred still, while I'm believing what you want me to believe of her?"
Nancy got up, feeling quite desperate about the failure of her attempts to show Alma her danger. While she was thinking of something to say she walked over to the door and switched on the light. Just as she turned, she saw Alma make a quick movement—but Alma was not quick enough to grasp a handsome fur neck-piece off the chair and whisk it behind the pillow before Nancy saw her. Alma blushed crimson. If it had not been for that swift action and the guilty blush, Nancy would not even have noticed the scarf—or, if she had, she would simply have thought that it was one of Mildred's. For some reason she flushed herself, and Stood staring blankly at Alma, curiously ashamed of Alma's own guilty expression. Then Alma slowly drew the scarf from its hiding-place, and tried to laugh.