As a result of the events of the previous evening, Marian Seaton and Maizie Gilbert put in a very bad day. It began by a wild fit of weeping on Marian's part, after breakfast and in her room that morning. At breakfast she managed to keep up a semblance of her usual self-assured, arrogant manner, but the moment she reached her room she crumpled.

"Don't be a baby, Marian," was Maizie's rough advice, as she stolidly prepared to go to her first recitation of the day. "You brought this trouble on yourself. You might as well take the consequences without whimpering. You'd better cut your first recitation. Your eyes are a sight."

"I'm not going to any of my classes to-day. Go on about your own business and let me alone," was Marian's equally rude retort.

Maizie merely shrugged at this announcement and went stoically upon her way. She was made of sterner stuff than her unworthy roommate, and with the realization that she had behaved very badly indeed, she had now steeled herself to accept her punishment bravely.

Marian, on the contrary, moped in her room all morning, went to Rutherford Inn for a lonely luncheon and returned to the Hall and her room to weep again and ponder darkly over her unhappy situation. She tried in vain to prepare an argument by which she might clear herself should Mrs. Weatherbee decide to expose her wrong-doing to Miss Rutledge. She could think of nothing that might carry weight. The case against her was too complete to afford the slightest loophole for escape.

As the day dragged on she gave up in despair. She made up her mind that her only hope now lay in appealing to Mrs. Weatherbee for mercy. She resolved to pretend deep remorse and promise a future uprightness of conduct to which she had no intention of living up.

At five o'clock that afternoon, Maizie walked in upon the despondent Marian with: "Mrs. Weatherbee wants to see us in her room. The maid just told me. I'm glad of it. I'm anxious to have the matter settled."

"If Mrs. Weatherbee tells us that she is going to report us to Miss Rutledge, Maizie, we must beg her not to do it," quavered Marian. "We must promise her anything rather than let her go to Miss Rutledge. That's what I intend to do and so must you."

Maizie regarded Marian with the air of one who was carefully weighing the cowardly counsel. All she said was:

"Come on. We mustn't keep her waiting."

First glance at the matron's face as they were admitted to her room filled both girls with renewed apprehension. She looked more uncompromisingly stern than ever. With a brusque invitation to be seated, she took a chair directly opposite them and began addressing them in cool, measured tones:

"My original intention was to defer a decision of your case for several days, at least," she said. "Thinking the matter over to-day, I came to the conclusion that the sooner this disagreeable affair was settled and off my mind, the better pleased I should be.

"Both of you deserve expulsion from college. I am sure that Miss Rutledge would be of the same opinion were I to lay the matter before her. Frankly, I have decided not to do so simply on account of Miss Stearns and Miss Allen. These two young girls have shown themselves great enough of spirit to overlook the injury you have endeavored to do them. This has made a marked impression upon me, so great, in fact, that I have determined not to report this very disagreeable affair to Miss Rutledge. Since it has occurred at the Hall and has no bearing on any one outside the Hall, I feel that I am justified in settling it as I deem wisest for all concerned.

"The fact that you are both young girls, also, has something to do with it. In my opinion it is a very shocking matter for a young woman to be expelled from college. You have been under my charge for almost two years, and I feel in a measure responsible for you. On this account and because Miss Stearns and Miss Allen have interceded for you, I shall not inform Miss Rutledge of your dishonorable conduct.

"For the remainder of the college year I shall allow you to continue under my charge at the Hall. When you leave Madison Hall in June, however, it will be with the understanding that you cannot return to it the following autumn. You must make arrangements to live at another campus house."

Thus far neither girl had been given the least opportunity of speaking. As it happened, neither had the slightest desire to speak. Both were feeling too intensely relieved for words. First to recover from the good news that she and Maizie would escape the punishment they merited, Marian Seaton now said with a faint touch of asperity:

"Why won't you allow us to come back to Madison Hall next year, Mrs. Weatherbee? We prefer it to any other campus house. If we give you our word of honor to let Judith Stearns and her crowd alone, isn't that sufficient?"

"No, Miss Seaton, it is not. I repeat that you must make other arrangements for next year. One thing more and we will conclude this interview. You must both pledge yourselves to good behavior while you are here. If I hear of any attempts on your part to malign a fellow student, either by word or deed, I shall revoke my decision and put your case before Miss Rutledge. Nothing except absolute fair play on your part will be tolerated here. That is all. You are at liberty to go."

Fighting back her anger, Marian arose, and with a stiff, "Thank you, Mrs. Weatherbee," walked to the door. She was congratulating herself that she had not been forced to ask favors of that "hard-hearted old tyrant."

Maizie rose, but made no attempt to follow Marian. Instead she raised unfathomable black eyes to the matron and said:

"You are kinder to us than we deserve. I thank you."

Then she turned abruptly and followed Marian from the room.

Back in their own room, she walked over to her bed and sat down on it and eyed Marian reflectively.

"Well, what's the matter with you?" asked Marian crossly. "You make me tired. Why did you say to that old dragon that she'd been kinder to us than we deserved? It wasn't necessary. The idea of her turning us out of Madison Hall. And we can't do anything to stop her, either. She has the whip hand and she knows it. It's a positive outrage and the whole affair is Elsie's fault, the hateful little hypocrite. She'll be sorry. I'll never rest until I pay her back for this."

"It strikes me," drawled Maizie, "that there's been altogether too much of this 'paying back' business. You'd best drop it, Marian. You are not a success in that line. As for me, I'm tired of it. I used to think it great fun and exciting, but now I know that it's petty, mean and unworthy. If I could be as true to myself as Jane Allen is, I'd be happy."

"Jane Allen!" exclaimed Marian in exasperation. "I hate the very sound of her name. I suppose now, since you seem to admire her so much, you'll begin running after her."

"No, not yet," was the tranquil response. "Perhaps never. I don't know. I'm going to stick to you for the present. I've been a party to your schemes and it wouldn't be right to desert you. But from now on, I am going to be fair with these girls. I warn you not to come to me with any plans of yours for getting even with them. I won't listen to them. If you are wise you won't make them. But you won't be wise. I know you too well. Only don't count on me to help you. The old Maizie is dead. I don't know what the new one's going to be like. I'll have to wait and find out."

"You're a big goose," sneered Marian. "I never thought you'd be so silly. And all on account of that priggish Jane Allen. She's——"

"She's a fine girl," declared Maizie with an ominous flash of her black eyes. "I only wish you and I were more like her."

Meanwhile, in company with Judith Stearns, the objects of Maizie's newly discovered admiration were on their way to Mrs. Weatherbee's room. Immediately Marian and Maizie had departed, the matron had sent for Jane and Judith. For an hour they remained in friendly and very earnest conclave with Mrs. Weatherbee. When at last they left her, it was with the feeling that everything was once more right with their little world.

The instant the door of their own room closed behind the two, they expressed their emotions by clinging to each other in joyful embrace.

"Thank goodness, it's come out all right!" exclaimed Judith. "We'd never have felt quite comfortable if Mrs. Weatherbee had taken it higher. Marian and Maizie would have been expelled from Wellington, that's certain. It is enough punishment for them to have been told that they couldn't come back to Madison Hall next year and wouldn't be allowed to stay here for the rest of this year only on the promise of strict good behavior."

"I can't feel sorry about that part of it," declared Jane. "I think we are justified in being glad that Marian Seaton will be in another campus house next year. To tell you the truth I wouldn't mind Maizie's being here. She's a strange girl, Judy. There's a lot to her beneath that lazy, indifferent manner of hers. I'll never forget the way she looked when she turned to me and spoke about my being Right Guard."

"She looked as though she'd been asleep for a long time and then had suddenly waked up," nodded Judith. "And Elsie Noble! I can't get over the way she turned around and stood up for us. Just to think, too, she told Mrs. Weatherbee that it was Norma who had made her feel as though she wanted to be different. And Norma never even knew how much Elsie admired her."

"It shows that a person who does right and thinks right is bound to influence others without ever saying a word," Jane said reflectively.

"Yes, that's so," Judith agreed. "One never knows how much every little thing one says and does is going to impress others. I shall have to be pretty careful how I behave in future. My fatal failing's likely to land me in penitentiary yet, if I don't reform," she added with a giggle.

"You'll have to learn to distinguish between a rubbish can and a package box, Judy," laughed Jane.

During the confidential talk with Jane and Judith, Mrs. Weatherbee had told Judith all about the missing sweater and its amazing return into her hands.

"It wouldn't have happened if some one hadn't moved that rubbish can up near the package box," asserted Judith. "It was so dark, and raining so hard I didn't stop to look. The lids of the rubbish can lift up on each side from the middle, you know. Of course, if I had my mind on what I was doing it wouldn't have happened, but I didn't.

"Mrs. Weatherbee didn't say so, but I'm sure she must have thought that the sweater Aunt Jennie made me was the missing one," Judith opined. "Honestly, Jane, I believe if it hadn't been for that, she never would have listened to Marian Seaton's accusations against me."