But Petty had not taken the note from Beverly’s history. It had been removed by quite a different person. In fact about the last one either Beverly or Petty would have dreamed of.

But of this a little later.

By the time the fudge had been cleaned off from everything within a radius of five feet, for a more complete splash had never been made by any descending mass, the “lights out” bells were ringing in all the corridors. Miss Woodhull had only to press a series of buttons arranged in the hall just outside her study door to produce the effect of the needle-prick in the fairy tale. Every inmate immediately dropped asleep. Every? Well, exceptions prove a rule, it is said.

The following morning Beverly told Petty the circumstances of picking up the note and of its subsequent disappearance.

Petty was in despair and scolded and wept alternately, accusing Beverly of having deliberately confiscated it, and hinting pretty broadly that she had also read it.

The moment this accusation left her lips she regretted it because she knew it to be utterly unfounded and the blaze which sprung into Beverly’s eyes warned the little shallow pate that she had ventured a bit too far. She tried to retract by saying she was “nervous and excited and perfectly miserable at the loss of the letter. It was the first of Reggie’s letters she had ever lost, and he had written every single day for a whole year.”

“Three-hundred and sixty-five letters, and every one mushy?” cried Beverly, incredulously. “I should think it would be worse than eating a pound of nougat every day.”

Petty alternately moped and searched all Saturday, but, of course to no purpose. When Monday morning came she was in despair, and went to her first recitation in a most emotional frame of mind.

It happened to be French, and Monsieur Sautelle had been the French instructor but four months. Moreover, he had not yet been in America a year and American girls, and things American, were not only new but a constant source of marvel to him. He lived in a world of hitherto unknown sensations and this morning was destined to experience an entirely new one.

The period was nearly over before it came Petty’s turn to recite and Petty, as the result of having spent all her study period in a vain search for the lost letter, was totally unprepared.

“Madamoiselle Gaylor, you will be so good as to come the conjugation of the verb love, indicative mood, if you please.”

Unfortunate choice!

Petty was in a very indicative mood already. Had he chosen any other verb she might have survived the ordeal, but under the circumstances to openly affirm: “I love; Thou lovest; he loves——.”

Well, there are limits to every one’s endurance under extreme emotion.

Petty hesitated and was lost. Not a word would come. Her throat throbbed and it seemed as though that pound of nougat Beverly had alluded to must be stuck in it.

“Proceed, if you please, Madamoiselle,” urged Monsieur. Petty sat almost directly in front of him, or rather she stood—Miss Woodhull wished each pupil to stand while reciting—and upon being urged to “proceed” raised to him a pair of violet eyes swimming in tears, and a face of abject woe.

Monsieur Sautelle was not over thirty. A dapper, exquisite little man. He was distraught at the sight of this tearful damsel and, very naturally attributed her distress to unpreparedness. Petty was a pretty, inconsequential little creature born to play upon the feelings of one man or another. It did not much matter who he happened to be so long as he could satisfy the sentimental element in her makeup, and she was mostly sentimentality.

“Madamoiselle I implore. Why these tears? You quite desolate me. It is no such crushing matter that you do not know ‘to love’.”

“But oh, I do. I do,” sobbed Petty.

“Then you will most kindly demonstrate that fact to the class. They wait.”

If ever instructor was taken literally Monsieur Sautelle was then and there, for with an overpowering sob she swayed forward, flung both arms about the dismayed man’s neck and burying her face against his immaculate collar, gurgled: “Oh, I love! I do love! Thou lov-v-est! He—He—loves——me!”

It was the most astonishing conjugation the startled Professor had ever heard in all his thirty years, and he frantically strove to remove the clinging damsel, at the same time commanding: “Madamoiselle, Madamoiselle, make yourself tranquil! You will cease at once. Mees Woodhull! Mees Stetson, Mees—Mees.”

Now it so happened that Miss Stetson’s recitation room adjoined Monsieur Sautelle’s. She heard his call and responded with wingÉd feet, arriving upon the scene just as Eleanor Allen, Petty’s bosom friend, had sprung to her side, and while in reality striving to untwine Petty’s clinging arms seemed also to be in the act of embracing the French teacher.

What followed is almost too painful to dwell upon, but within ten minutes, all three actors in the little drama were arraigned before Miss Woodhull and it was only Eleanor’s clever tongue which saved the situation. She stated very emphatically that Petty had been too ill to study on Saturday evening; she did not feel it necessary to name the nature of the malady. That it had been impossible for Petty to prepare her lessons for Monday and that her act was purely the outcome of nervous excitement and held no personal demonstration toward Professor Sautelle.

This statement the Professor was more than delighted to back up and Petty’s tears clenched it. Miss Woodhull could not endure tears; she had never shed one in her life so far as she could recall—and she wished to end the scene forthwith. Consequently the Professor was politely dismissed and speedily went to procure fresh linen. Under Miss Stetson’s charge Petty was sent to the Infirmary, where she was detained a week, and Eleanor was bidden to go to her next recitation. But Eleanor, who was Petty’s confidant in all things, instantly decided to keep her trump card to be played when the moment should be ripe. Eleanor had missed her vocation in life. She should have been in the Turkish diplomatic service instead of in an American boarding school.

Eleanor had taken the note from Beverly’s history. She did so because, having seen Beverly pick it up and place it there she decided, from innate suspicion of all her fellow beings, that Beverly meant to use it to Petty’s undoing. It never occurred to her that Beverly could entertain a generous motive toward a girl whom she held in aversion if not contempt. Then the note once in her possession she wished to keep it a day or so, in the hope that Petty might discover for herself where it had gone. It never entered her head that Beverly would go straight to Petty and explain the situation, and in a reticent freak quite uncommon to her nature, Petty had not confided this fact to Eleanor. And now it was out of the question to do so for the pupils were not permitted to visit the girls in the Infirmary.

Two weeks later the basket-ball game with the rival school was imminent and the team was working like mad. Leslie Manor had been beaten the year before and a second defeat would spell disgrace. Eleanor was on the sub-team. So was Electra. The captain and one forward were seniors. Aileen center, Sally a forward, Beverly had made good as guard and was working like a Trojan for the great event.

The Friday afternoon before the game a party of girls were taken to the village to do some shopping. Nothing more diverting than purchasing new shoe ties, hairpins, bows, and various other trifles. Also to make sure that the decorations ordered for the gymnasium would be punctually sent over to the school that afternoon and last, but by no means least, to indulge in chocolate sodas etc., at the big drug store.

It so happened that Miss Forsdyke, the Latin teacher was acting as chaperone that afternoon and Miss Forsdyke was alive just exactly two thousand years after her time. She should have lived about 55 B.C., for in reality she was living in that period right in the Twentieth Century A.D. and was so lost to all things modern, and so buried in all things ancient, that she was never quite fully alive to those happening all around her. As a chaperone she was “just dead easy” Sally said. A more absent-minded creature it would have been hard to come upon.

Sally, Aileen and Beverly were lingering over the last delicious mouthfuls of nut sundaes. Electra had finished hers and gone to an adjoining counter to make a purchase. Miss Forsdyke, who had declined Sally’s invitation to have a sundae, was selecting a tooth brush at an adjoining counter when Beverly asked:

“Miss Forsdyke, why can’t we carry the flags and ribbons back with us? Then we would be sure of them.”

Miss Forsdyke laid down the tooth brush, picked it up again, hesitated, then walked toward Beverly, saying, “I am not quite sure that Miss Woodhull would approve. She does not like the pupils to carry parcels—large ones, I mean—and these would be quite large, would they not?”

“Then why not phone to her to ask if we may?” suggested Sally.

“Why-er-I-suppose I-I could. Will you kindly direct me to the public tooth brush?” she turned to the clerk to ask. “Oh no, no, I mean the public telephone booth,” she corrected, coloring a deep pink.

“It’s behind you,” answered the clerk, trying not to laugh, and pointing to the booth which was exactly behind Miss Forsdyke. Still grasping her tooth brush she scuttled into the booth.

Naturally, Electra had been an interested listener and Electra’s mind did not grasp two ideas simultaneously as a rule. She had not yet made her wants known to the clerk, who stood deferentially waiting for her to do so. As the possibility seemed vague he asked politely.

“What can I do for you, Miss?” and nearly disappeared beneath the show case when Electra answered.

“Will you please give me a glass eye. No, no, I mean a glass eye cup.”

“That’s no school, it’s a blooming lunatic asylum,” clerk No. 1 declared to clerk No. 2 as the last pair of shoeheels disappeared through the door, “an’ the old one’s the looniest of them all.”

Nevertheless, some of those “lunatics” put up a good game of basket-ball the next afternoon.

As the game progressed the school and the spectators were jubilant. At least one-half of the latter were, and none more so than two girls who had come with the rival team, as all the Leslie Manor girls believed, and, although strangers, certainly enthused more over the blue and yellow, the Leslie Manor colors, than over the green and red.

“Look at those two stunning girls in the third row on the left side, Aileen. Do you know who they are?” asked Sally, during one of the intermissions.

“Never laid eyes on them before,” replied Aileen. Isn’t the tall fair one beautiful though? I’ve never seen such eyes and skin in all my life.

“She knows how to dress too, believe me,” was Sally’s admiring comment. “That’s a stunning velveteen suit she has on, and her hat well, New York or Paris, sure.”

“The smaller one must be attractive too. But isn’t it funny that she should wear her chiffon veil under her lace one instead of outside of it? I wish she’d raise them properly; I want to get a good look at her face. Somehow she reminds me of someone I’ve met before but I can’t think of whom. We’ll ask Beverly.” But just then the whistle blew and the game was on again.

When Leslie Manor won on a score of twenty to seven, the girl in the chiffon veil jumped to her feet, pitched her muff high into the air and yelled. Then evidently overwhelmed with mortification at her wild demonstration instantly dropped back upon her chair, aided in her descent thereto by a vigorous tug from her companion.

At Beverly’s grasping, “Oh!” Aileen and Sally started. Beverly had not noticed the two girls until that instant.

“What’s the matter?” asked Sally.

“Nothing. Just a funny kink in my side. It’s all over now.”

“You’ve played too hard. I knew you would. Come quick and get a good rub-down. You’re nearly all in. Why didn’t we realize it sooner. Come on,” and full of solicitude they hurried her away to the dressing-room, her supposed indisposition driving all thoughts of the strange girls from their heads, and when the three were dressed and ready to join their companions the visitors had disappeared; gone undoubtedly with others who had come to witness the game, and they never thought to mention their presence to Beverly.

That they in common with the other guests had been ushered into Miss Woodhull’s library, where, agreeable to custom, hot chocolate was served, had each, by some miraculous means contrived to be served three times, and had held a brief but most flattering conversation with Miss Woodhull, Sally, Beverly and Aileen never suspected. When they took their departure Miss Woodhull suddenly remembered that they had not been introduced to her and that she had not the vaguest idea of their names. Which of her teachers or pupils had been so very remiss?