As she looked, both pictured faces gradually dimmed. For tears had come at last at the thought of leaving father and mother quiet tears that flowed in erratic little S's between gray eyes and trembling mouth. How could she forsake them? "Gwendolyn," she half-whispered, "s'pose we just pu-play the Johnnie Blake Pretend ... Oh, very well," this last with all of Miss Royle's precise intonation.