Several days had passed since the riding lesson. It was Saturday evening and study period, which began at five and lasted until six-thirty, was ended. Dinner was served at seven on Saturdays and from eight until ten o'clock the girls were perfectly free. A group was gathered in Stella Drummond's big room and preparations for a fudge party, after the hearty dinner had "somewhat shaken down," were under way. Stella's chafing dish was the most up-to-date one in the school, and Stella's larder more bountifully supplied than the other girls. Indeed, Stella never lacked for anything so far as the others could discover and had a more liberal supply of pocket money than is generally allowed. Mrs. Vincent had expressed doubts as to the wisdom of it when Stella's father mentioned the sum she was to have, but he had laughed and answered:

"Oh, nonsense, my dear Madam! At home she would have double if she wished it. She knows how to use it, and remember she is all I have to spend my income upon. Don't let that little matter worry you. Just give all your attention to polishing her up a bit and teaching her the newest fol-de-rols. Living all over the country is not the best thing for a young lady, I have found out. It may be conducive to physical development, but it leaves something to be desired in educational lines."

So Stella, though eighteen, and supposed to be a senior, was really taking a special course in which junior work predominated. She had selected her own room, it had been furnished exactly as she wished, and it certainly resembled a bridal apartment more than a school-girl's bed-room. A large alcove and private bath opened from it, and a balcony which commanded a beautiful view of Stony Brook Park made it luxurious to a degree. In this room, lighted by softly shaded electric drop lights, a cheery log fire blazing upon the shining brass andirons, the girls had gathered. Stella was arranging her electric chafing dish upon its little marble stand. Peggy was opening a box of shelled pecan nuts, Polly measuring out the chocolate, and the other girls were supplying all needful, or needless, advice concerning the modus operandi. Tzaritza, now a most privileged creature indeed, had stretched her huge length before the hearth, looking for all the world like a superb white rug, and Rosalie Breeze was flat upon her stomach, her arms around the dog's neck, her face nestled in the silky hair. Juno Gibson reclined gracefully in a luxurious wicker chair, its gorgeous pink satin cushions a perfect background for her dark loveliness—which no one understood better than Juno herself. Helen Doolittle (most aptly named) was gazing in simpering adoration upon Stella from a pillow-laden couch, and now commented:

"Oh, Stella, what adorable hands you have. How do you keep them so ravishingly white and your nails so absolutely faultless? I could cover them with kisses, sweetheart."

Stella's laugh held wholesome ridicule of this rhapsody and she replied:

"Don't waste your emotion upon my hands. Just save it until somebody comes along who wished to cover your hands with kisses—I mean some one in masculine attire. For my part, I don't think I'd care to have a girl try that experiment with me."

"Have you ever had a boy cover your hands with kisses?" asked Helen eagerly, starting from her position.

Stella, raised her head, looked at the simple, inconsequent, little doll-faced blonde and with an odd smile said:

"Well, I could hardly have called him a boy."

"Oh, was he a man? A real man? Did he wear a moustache? Just think, girls, of having a man's moustache brush the back of your hand as he covered it with kisses. Oh, how terribly thrilling. Do tell us all about it, Stella! I knew the moment I met you you must have had a romantic history. Did your father find it out, and what did he say?"

"Yes, I told him all about it and he laughed at me," and again Stella laughed her mystifying laugh.

"Oh, I'd just adore having such a ravishing experience as that," said Lily Pearl Montgomery from the window seat, "but how can one have any thrilling experiences in a stupid old school! Now there are Polly and Peggy; think of all they could tell us if they only would. You girls must be fairly bursting with the most wonderful stories if you'd only come down off your pedestals and tell us. I think you're both too tight for words. And all those darling cadets' photographs in your room. You needn't try to make me believe that 'Faithfully yours, Bubbles' and 'Your chum, Ralph,' and 'For my Pilot, Captain Polly, Wheedles,' and 'For Peggy Stewart, Chatelaine, Happy,' don't mean a whole lot more."

"What's that?" asked Peggy, catching her name and looking up from her occupation. She caught Polly's eyes which had begun to snap. Polly had also been too busy to pay much attention at first, but she had heard the concluding sentences. She turned and looked at Lily with exactly the expression upon her sixteen-year-old face which had overspread it years before when the thirteen-year-old Polly had surprised the sentimental "Thusan Thwingle" exchanging osculatory favors with "one of thothe horrid boyths" in the basement of the high school at Montgentian. Then she said with repressed vehemence:

"I only wish our boys could have heard you say that. If you wouldn't come in for the running of your life my name's not Polly Howland. You'd suit some of the boys back yonder, but not our bunch. Of all the hot air! Stella, is your chafing-dish ready?"

Peggy had colored a rosy pink. She lacked Polly's experience with other girls.

Piqued by Polly's superior rebuff, Helen came to the inane Lily Pearl's support in a manner she knew would hit loyal Polly's most vulnerable spot:

"Look at Peggy's face! Look at Peggy's face! Which is the particular He, Peggy? Polly may be able to put up a big bluff, but your face is a dead giveaway."

"I don't think you would be able to understand if I told you. Middie's Haven and the 'bunch' are just a degree too high up for you to reach, I'm afraid, and there's no elevator in Wilmot Hall," answered Peggy quietly.

Polly laid down the things she was holding for Stella, dusted her hands of chocolate crumbs by lightly rubbing her fingers together, and walked quietly over to the couch. Helen looked somewhat alarmed and drew back among her pillows.

Polly, never uttering one word, bent over, swooped up Helen, pillows and all and holding her burden as she would have held a struggling baby, walked straight out of the room and down, the corridor to her own room, the shouts, screams and laughs of the girls following her. Helen was absolutely speechless at the audacity of the act. Bumping her door together by the only available means left her, since both arms were occupied, Polly then plumped Helen, now almost ready to resort to hysterical tears, upon a wooden shirt-waist box and placing herself in front of her, struck the attitude of a little red-headed goddess of vengeance as she said:

"Helen Doolittle, you may run me all you've a mind to—it doesn't mean a thing to me; I'm used to it; I've been teased all my life and I'm bomb-proof. But Peggy Stewart's made of different stuff. She hasn't been with girls very much, and never with a silly one before. Give her time and she'll understand them a good sight better than they'll ever understand her. And the boys she has known are not the kind who are ever likely to want to know you. So there's not much use wasting time explaining things. But I tell you just this, I won't stand for Peggy being run even a little bit, and you can circulate that bit of information broadcast. She's the finest ever, and the girl who can call her friend is in luck up to her ears. So understand: let her alone or reckon with me."

"Do you think we are a lot of crazy schoolboys and expect to settle our disagreements with a regular fist-a-cuff bout? You must come from a very queer place."

"Where I come from doesn't matter in the least. Peggy is the one under discussion and you know where she comes from and who she is. What she is you'll never know."

"I don't see why she should be so very hard to understand."

"She isn't—for people with enough sense. Now just take one good look at those pictures. Is there a weak face among them? One of two things will happen to you if you ever happen to meet the originals: they'll either make you feel like a silly little kid or they won't take a bit of notice of you. It will depend upon how you happen to strike them."

"Oh, are they such, wonders as all that?"

"If you ever get an invitation down to Annapolis you'll have a chance to find out. Peggy and I have about made up our minds to have a house party during the holidays, but we haven't quite made up our minds which girls we are going to like well enough to ask to it. Tanta suggested it. She is anxious to know our friends, and we are anxious to have her. She sizes people up pretty quickly and we are always mighty glad to have her opinion."

Polly spoke rapidly and the effect upon Helen was peculiar. From the pugnacious attitude of an outraged canary, ready to do battle, she was transformed into the sweetest, meekest love-bird imaginable. A veritable little preening, posing, oh-do-admire-me creature, and at Polly's last words she jumped from the box and clasping her hands, cried:

"A house-party! You are planning a house-party? Oh, how perfectly adorable. Oh, which girls are you going to invite? Oh, I'll never, never tease Peggy again as long as I live. I'll be perfectly lovely to her and I'll make the other girls be nice too. To think of going up there and meeting all those darling boys. Oh please tell me all about it! The girls will be just crazy when I tell them. Which of these fellows will be there?"

Helen had rushed over to Polly's dresser upon which in pretty silver frames were photographs of Ralph, Happy and Wheedles. On Peggy's dresser Shorty and Durand looked from their frames straight into her eyes, while several others not yet framed looked down from the top of the bookshelf. Silly little Helen was in an ecstasy. Her mamma had never believed in companions of the opposite sex for her "sweet little daughter" but had kept her in a figurative preserve jar which bore the label "you may look but you must not touch." Mamma's instructions to Mrs. Vincent upon placing Helen in the school had been an absolute ban upon any masculine visitors, or visits upon Helen's part where such undesirable, though often unavoidable, members of society might congregate. "She is so very innocent and unsophisticated, you know, and so very young," added mamma sweetly. Mrs. Vincent smiled indulgently, but made no comments: She had encountered such mammas and such sweetly unsophisticated daughters before and she then and there resolved to keep an extra watchful eye upon this innocent one. Thus far, however, nothing alarming had occurred, but Mrs. Vincent knew her material and was prepared for almost anything. She also knew Lily Pearl and felt pretty sure that if an upheaval ever took place it would turn out that Lily Pearl or Helen had touched off the mine. The foregoing scene gives some hint of the viewpoints of the young ladies in question.

During this digression Helen had caught up Wheedle's picture and was pressing it rapturously to her fluttering bosom and exclaiming:

"You're a perfect darling! If I could have just one dance with you I'd be willing to die! Polly, how old is he!"

But Polly had left the room and was on her way back to Stella's. As she reached it she came face to face with the Sturgeon and the Sturgeon's eyes held no "lovelight" for her.

"Miss Howland, what was the cause of the wild shrieks which disturbed me a moment since? Miss Montgomery says you can tell if you will and since none of your companions seem inclined to do so, I will hear your explanation. I was on my way to inform Miss Stewart that Mrs. Vincent wished to see her in her study at once when this hideous uproar assailed my ears."

Polly glanced quickly about the room. Sure enough, Peggy had left it. Some of the girls looked concerned, others quite calm; among the latter were Stella and Juno. Rosalie, with Tzaritza's head in her lap, looked defiant. She hated Miss Sturgis.

Polly turned and looked squarely into Miss Sturgis' eyes.

"The girls were screaming because I carried Helen out of the room," she answered quietly.

"It seems to me you must be somewhat in need of exercise. I would advise you to go to the gymnasium to work off your superfluous energy. Why did you carry Helen from the room? Has she become incapable of voluntary locomotion?"

"Not yet," answered Polly, a twinkle coming into a corner of the gray eyes.

"Not yet?" emphasized Miss Sturgis. "Are you apprehensive of her becoming so?"

"She needs more exercise than she gets," answered Polly, half smiling.

That smile acted as salt upon a wound. Miss Sturgis' temper rose.

"Please bear in mind that it does not devolve upon you to decide that question."

"I did not try to settle that question, Miss Sturgis. If you wish to know why I carried Helen out of the room I did it because she was running—"

"Doing what? I don't think I understand your boyish slang."

"Well, teasing Peggy, and I won't have Peggy teased by anybody if I can stop it. She doesn't understand girls' ways as well as I do because she hasn't been thrown with them. So when Helen teased her I picked her up and carried her down to our room and I don't reckon she will tease her any more."

"So you have come into the school to set its standards and correct its shortcomings, have you? Are you so very superior to your companions—you and your protÉgÉe?"

Polly looked straight into the narrow eyes looking at her, but made no reply.

"Answer me, instantly."

"I have never considered myself superior to anyone, but I do consider Peggy Stewart superior to any girl I have ever known, and I think you will agree with me when you know her better," asserted Polly loyally.

"You are insolent."

"I do not mean to be. Any one who knows her will tell you the same thing."

"I repeat you are insolent and you may go to your room."

Polly made no reply, but started to leave the room. Tzaritza sprang to her side. Miss Sturgis interposed.

"Leave that dog where she is. Go back, you horrible beast," and she raised her hand menacingly. Tzaritza was not quite sure whether the menace was intended for Polly or herself. In either case it was cause for resentment and a low growl warned against further liberties.

"Be careful, Miss Sturgis. Tzaritza thinks you are threatening me," said Polly. It was said wholly in the interest of the teacher.

Miss Sturgis' early training and forebears had not been of an order to develop either great dignity, or self-control. Her ability to teach mathematics was undisputed. Hence her position in Mrs. Vincent's school, though that good lady had more than once had reason to question the wisdom of retaining her, owing to the influence which she exerted over her charges. The grain beneath did not lend itself to a permanent, or high polish, and it took only the slightest scratch to mar it. Polly's words seemed to destroy her last remnant of self-control and she turned upon her in a fury of rage. As she seized her by the arm and cried, "Silence!" Polly whirled from her like a flash crying, "Charge, Tzaritza!"

But it was too late, the 'hound had sprung to Polly's defense, only it was Polly's protecting arm into which Tzaritza's teeth sank. The girl turned white with pain. Instantly the beautiful dog relinquished her hold and whining and whimpering like a heartbroken thing began to lick the bruised arm. Then arose a hubbub compared to which the screams of which Miss Sturgis had complained had been infantile plaints. Lily Pearl promptly went into hysterics. Juno shrieked aloud and even the self-contained Stella cried out as she ran to catch Polly in her arms, for the girl seemed about to faint. But Miss Sturgis, now thoroughly terrified at the crisis she had brought to pass, called madly for help. Helen's screams mingled in the pandemonium, for Helen had been brought hack from her romantic air castle with a rush.

Notwithstanding the fact that Mrs. Vincent's study was down one flight of stairs and at the other end of the building, she became aware of the uproar and her conversation with Peggy came to an abrupt pause. Then both hurried into the hall to see the tails of Horatio Hannibal Harrison's coat vanishing up the broad stairway and to hear FrÄulein Hedwig wailing, "Oh ze house iss burning up and down I am sure!"

Meanwhile upon the scene of action Polly had been the first to recover her wits. The skin had not been broken, for Tzaritza had instantly perceived her error and released her grip almost as soon as it was taken. But Miss Sturgis would not have escaped so easily, as well she knew, and her hatred for Tzaritza increased tenfold. When Mrs. Vincent and the others arrived upon the scene she broke into a perfect torrent of invective against the dog, but was brought to her senses by the Principal's quiet:

"Miss Sturgis, you seem to be a good deal overwrought. I will excuse you. You may retire to your room until you feel calmer."

"Let me explain! Let me tell you what a horrible thing has happened!" cried Miss Sturgis.

"When you are less excited I shall be glad to listen. FrÄulein, kindly accompany Miss Sturgis to her room and call the housekeeper. Now, Polly, what is it?" asked Mrs. Vincent, for Polly was the center of the group of excited girls, though calmer than any of them.

"Tzaritza made a mistake and caught my arm in her teeth, that is all, Mrs. Vincent. But she has done no harm. It doesn't hurt much now; she did not mean to do it any way."

"What!" cried Peggy, aghast, "Tzaritza attacked you, Polly?"

Polly nodded her head in quick negative, striving to keep Peggy from saying more. But Tzaritza had crawled to Peggy's feet and was literally grovelling there in abject misery.

"Charge, Tzaritza!"

The splendid creature lay motionless. "Polly, what happened?' demanded Peggy, once more the Peggy of Severndale and entirely forgetful of her present surroundings. Mrs. Vincent smiled and laying her hand gently upon Peggy's arm said:

"Don't embarrass Polly, dear. Leave it to me."

"Oh, I beg your pardon, Mrs. Vincent. I forgot," answered Peggy, blushing deeply. Mrs. Vincent nodded forgiveness, then turning to Stella, asked:

"Were you here all the time, Stella?"

"Yes, Mrs. Vincent."

"Then please tell me exactly what happened."

Stella told the story clearly and quietly. When she ended there was a moment's hush, broken by Rosalie Breeze crying:

"And Tzaritza never, never would have done a single thing if Miss Sturgis hadn't lost her temper. She is forever scolding us about losing ours, but she'd just better watch out herself. I wish Tzaritza had bitten her!"

"Rosalie!"

"Well, I do, Mrs. Vincent. It was every bit her own fault. She hates Tzaritza, and I love her," was Rosalie's vehement if perplexing conclusion as she cast herself upon the big dog. Tzaritza welcomed her with a grateful whine and crept closer, though she never raised her head. She was waiting the word of forgiveness from the one she loved best of all, but Peggy was awaiting Tzaritza's exoneration. Mrs. Vincent, who had sent for the resident trained nurse, was examining Polly's arm and now said:

"It is all very distressing, but I am glad no more serious for Polly. The arm is badly bruised and will be very painful for some time, but I can't discover a scratch. Miss Allen, will you please look after this little girl," she asked, as the sweet-faced trained nurse entered the room, her white uniform snowy and immaculate, her face a benediction in its sweet, calm repose.

"Go with Miss Allen, dear, and have your arm dressed." Polly paused only long enough to stoop down and kiss Tzaritza's head, the caress being acknowledged by a pathetic whine, then followed the nurse from the room.

Peggy was terribly distressed.

"Do you think I would better send her back to Severndale, Mrs. Vincent?" she asked.

"Has she ever attacked anyone before, Peggy?"

"Never in all her life."

"I hardly think she will again. She may remain. Come here, Tzaritza."

Tzaritza did not stir.

"Up, Tzaritza," commanded Peggy, and the affectionate creature's feet were upon her shoulders as she begged forgiveness with almost human eloquence.

"Oh, my bonny one, how could you?" asked Peggy as she caressed the silky head. Tzaritza's whimpers reduced some of the girls to tears. "Now go to Mrs. Vincent," ordered Peggy, and the hound obediently crossed the room to lay her head in that lady's lap.

"Poor Tzaritza, you did what you believed to be your duty, didn't you? None of us can do more. I wish some of my other problems were as easy to solve as the motives of your act. Go on with your fudge party, girls. It will prove a diversion. I must look to other matters now," and Mrs. Vincent sighed at the prospect of the coming interview with Miss Sturgis. It was not her first experience by any means.