While Athol was fuming at Kilton Hall and trying to keep his promise to his uncle to “hold his jaw,” though it very nearly resulted in lockjaw, the ferment at Leslie Manor grew.

The older girls had grown rebellious almost to a unit, and the entire school was terror-stricken or hysterical, the inevitable outcome of a discipline which had steadily grown more severe and arbitrary; a nagging surveillance which only incited in the pupils a wild desire to do the very things of which they were unjustly suspected and accused. They were never trusted, their simplest, most innocent acts were misconstrued, their word doubted, and, as in Beverly’s case, Miss Woodhull had more than once cruelly baited and insulted them.

Truly, “the years had wrought strangenesses in her,” and a more short-sighted policy than she had adopted for the past five it would be hard to conceive.

Mrs. Bonnell and some of the teachers had been painfully alive to all this for a long time. Two or three of the instructors had resigned and sought positions elsewhere, unable to work in the unhappy atmosphere which Miss Woodhull created.

Once Mrs. Bonnell had bearded the lioness in her den and striven to remonstrate with her, which had drawn upon her devoted head such a storm of resentment that she had then and there tendered her resignation also. At that point Miss Woodhull, realizing how entirely dependent she was upon Mrs. Bonnell’s perfect management of Leslie Manor had actually apologized and begged Mrs. Bonnell to remain. She excused her language upon the score of excessive fatigue after so many years of unremitting work. “Unremitting?” Mrs. Bonnell smiled but accepted the apology. Her livelihood depended upon her own work, and she also loved the place and had many friends in that part of the world. But the idea of Miss Woodhull’s “arduous work” was certainly amusing. Miss Woodhull never did a thing (but criticise) from one day’s end to the next. She had long since given up all classes, and now merely presided as the autocrat of the establishment, unloved by any, feared by many, disliked by all. If Miss Stetson and Miss Baylis really did like her they also shared the fear she inspired.

More than one upheaval had occurred in the course of the school’s existence, but had always been quickly hushed up, though vague rumors had circulated throughout the community. During later years, however, more than one girl had “been dismissed,” so Miss Woodhull stated, “for unbecoming conduct.” The girls themselves told different stories. For the past three years Dr. and Mrs. Kilton had been quietly trying to purchase Leslie Manor through agents in Richmond, for a good bit of inside information had come to them regarding the manner in which matters were shaping there, and their pride in the community, and in Warren County, shrank from some possible crisis which would bring upon it an unpleasant notoriety.

In one sense the girls in Leslie Manor were well cared for. Their physical and personal welfare were safe in Mrs. Bonnell’s hands and the instruction was thorough and excellent. But in the wise development of character, in the trustful, happy confidence which girlhood should know, in the harmony which is girlhood’s right, or the harmless frolicing, and healthful bodily development from spontaneous activities, they were sadly lacking. Everything was cut and dried. All things ordered from Miss Woodhull’s austere standpoint. No wonder that the school harbored “Pettys” and “Eleanors” and “Electras” and a few other oddities. Until this year it had never sheltered a “Beverly,” and this same Beverly was likely to prove, though with no such intention upon her part, its Waterloo.

And thus stood affairs that Sunday evening after Beverly’s flight, and then from a source least expected Bomb Number 1 was hurled.

All day long Electra Sanderson had been strangely silent. At eight o’clock she marched down to Miss Woodhull’s study, rapped upon the door, and was bidden enter. That lady sat with her hand upon the telephone receiver, about to remove it. She now fully realized that Admiral Seldon must be communicated with at once. She must face the music this time. She almost hailed Electra with joy as the source of a brief respite.

Electra crossed the room, rested one hand upon the corner of Miss Woodhull’s desk, plucked up her courage and plunged in head first:

“You scolded Beverly Ashby for receivin’ a letter she didn’t get. It wasn’t hers at all. It was Petty Gaylord’s. I saw her receive it. I don’t want to tell tales, but I wont have Beverly blamed for something she never done—did. She’s always been nice and polite to me and Petty aint been. Eleanor Allen stole that letter and brought it down here to you just to get Beverly into trouble. I saw her do it. She took it right out of Beverly’s history book. Petty dropped it in history class and never knew what had become of it. The next morning Beverly came into our room and told Petty that she had picked it up to return it to her but when she opened her book to get it it was gone, but Petty wouldn’t believe her and said awful things to her till Beverly just looked at her the way she can look when she despises people (well Miss Woodhull knew that look) and went out of the room. But Eleanor had that letter all the time, ’cause I saw her sneak into Beverly’s room and snitch it. I don’t know what she wanted with it, but after I saw her take it I watched her every single minute. I thought she would give it to Petty, of course, they’re so stuck on each other, but she didn’t. She just kept and kept it for some mucker trick, and when I saw her comin’ down to your study last night I knew just as well as anything what she was up to. She hates Beverly just because she won’t have anything to do with her and laughs at Petty and her mash. Petty’s just dead in love with that feller at Annapolis. Now if you don’t believe what I’ve told you you can just send for both of them and ask them yourself. I don’t care a cent what you do for I’m going to leave this hateful school tomorrow and you can’t stop me. And I’ll tell dad all about this fracas too. I hate you and everything in the school—so there, now!” and with this final explosion Eleanor turned and fled from the room. Erin Go Bra! If Eleanor’s story had not collapsed Miss Woodhull her English certainly would have compassed that result. She fell back upon her chair panting. Just then her phone rang: BOMB No. 2.

“No, Admiral Seldon, your niece is not here this evening. She is temporarily absent. When do I expect her to return? Oh, er—I think by tomorrow at latest. Is she where you can communicate with her by phone? Oh, certainly, certainly. The number? Why, er, I must ascertain for you. You must know immediately? You have heard alarming rumors? Ridiculous! Your niece missing since last evening? Preposterous! Absurd! Yes, of course, if you insist. And you will be over by the first train in the morning? Really, you are over-solicitous. My pupils are well looked after and cared for. You have reason to believe they are? Your tone hardly bears out your statement. She must be here to receive you when you arrive? Oh, certainly. Very well. Good-by.” The Empress came nearer fainting after that conversation than she had ever come in all her life.

But such a nature as hers must have a vent for its spleen, and what better ones than Eleanor and Petty, the cause of all the mischief? The electric bell which summoned them to Miss Woodhull’s study fairly sputtered sparks. Eleanor was sulkily silent. Petty, as usual, in tears. Tears were Petty’s long suit.

We have not time to dwell upon the details of that interview even if we would. Eleanor was one of the few girls to really be expelled from the school, and Petty promptly fled to “darling mamma” and “Reggie.”

Early Monday morning Admiral Seldon arrived upon the scene and was closeted with the Empress for two solid hours. This time his guns were not silenced, and those passing the study door could hear a steady rumble like heavy firing afar off, and in the intervals lighter shots, as though a gatling gun were popping its stacatto fire. Ultimately the heavy gun silenced the gatling. The last shot was something upon this order:

“Your methods, Madam, may prevail elsewhere, but permit me to say that they are a dead failure here. You are not training cart horses, but thoroughbreds, and you can’t lash and spur that breed. No, my niece will never return to Leslie Manor while it continues under its present management, and the next time I select a school for her the character and personality of its head will influence my choice far more than the curriculum, or modern methods. We have managed in bygone days to produce some pretty fine specimens of the true gentlewoman by the old methods in vogue in this part of the United States, and I am hopeful that we may produce a few more before the race dies out. Yes, I assuredly advise a rest, Madam, and that you prolong it indefinitely. It will benefit you immensely, I am sure—and also a great many others. I have the honor to wish you good-morning. And you need feel no further concern regarding my niece.”

The following week the Easter recess began. During that recess Miss Woodhull went to a famous Sanitarium in the state in order to “Restore her over-taxed nerves.” She did not know that the physician in charge was one of Admiral Seldon’s oldest friends. He strongly advised against resuming her duties after the Easter recess, and urged her to discontinue all work (?) for at least a year, and to seek an entire change of scene.

She followed his advice so far as change of scene was concerned, but her idea of a complete rest was an immediate and very active affiliation with her suffering sisters in a crusade for their “rights,” and the overthrow of the oppression of the sterner sex. She sailed for England, and once in London became one of the most rampant of the wronged ones.

Meanwhile the school was being conducted by Miss Baylis, who for five blissful weeks reigned supreme, while “hope” hinted a permanent one. But, alas! nothing is so delusive as human hope. That city across the sea settled Miss Baylis’ plans, and Miss Woodhull’s future. That lady had found her true place among England’s “gentlewomen”(?), though she had utterly failed to do so among Virginia’s. Over there she could chuck books at the heads of dignified judges and glory in seeing the old gentlemen dodge. She could heave her shoes at the Chancellor, and shout and yell with her wronged sisters. She could smash windows, blow up people’s houses, arrange and cavort with the maddest of her feminine friends, and give a glorious vent to all the long pent-up belligerence in her makeup, to the everlasting humiliation, mortification, shame and horror of the gentlewomen of her own land. Exit Miss Woodhull.

And her substitute? Her triumph was short lived. Leslie Manor was sold in May. Agents in Richmond conducted the sale. No one knew the purchaser, but during the following month workmen appeared as by magic and labored like gnomes all day, and almost all night too. New buildings were erected, all sorts of strange changes made in the old ones. The place assumed huge proportions. What could it all mean?

In August the cat popped out of the bag. Dr. and Mrs. Kilton moved in. A new and imposing sign appeared upon the handsome iron grill-work of the entrance gate, the gold letters reading: “The Wilder-Kilton Co-Educational Academy!” Wilder had been Mrs. Kilton’s maiden name. Old Kilton Hall, long since out-grown, became the home farm, and a sort of retreat for any pupils who were ailing or in need of a complete rest. The school was to be opened September thirtieth, under an entirely new auspices, and certainly under very new conditions. It was a daring venture, a complete innovation, but Dr. and Mrs. Kilton were sanguine of success. Whether their dreams were realized or not must be told in “A Dixie Girl Co-Ed.”

And down in Woodbine?

Well, three hilarious young people were nearly tearing the world to tatters in their joy. In May Admiral Seldon had taken them to Washington and Annapolis, where they had, sure enough, had the time of their lives. Then, the sight-seeing fever increasing, Mrs. Ashby joined them in Philadelphia, and away they went to New York, Niagara, and finally to Europe, where the summer was spent in one round of ecstasy. And now September was drawing to its close, and with the last day of that month their eagerly-longed for co-ed days would begin.

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