d handed them to Grace, who unfolded them, staring almost stupidly at
the sheet that lay on top. A wave of crimson flooded her recently pale
cheeks. "Why--what--where did you get this?" she stammered. "It is my
theme."

[Illustration: "It Is My Theme."]

"You mean it is the original from which you copied yours," put in Miss
Duncan dryly. "Is that your hand-writing?"

"No," replied Grace, in a puzzled tone.

"Is this your writing?" questioned Miss Duncan, suddenly producing
another theme from the drawer of her desk.

"Yes," was Grace's prompt answer. "I handed it in to you instead of
putting it in the collection box. You remember I told you I had lost the
first one I wrote and asked for more time."

"I remember perfectly," was the significant answer. "Is this theme,"
pointing to the one Grace still held, "the one you say you lost?"

"The one I say I lost," repeated Grace, a glint of resentment darkening
her eyes. "What do you mean, Miss Duncan?"

Her bold question caused the instructor's lips to tighten. "You have not
answered my question, Miss Harlowe," she said icily.

"No, this is not my theme," answered Grace; "that is, it is not in my
hand-writing. I do not recognize the writing." Grace ceased speaking and
stared at the theme in sudden consternation. "Some one found my theme
and copied it." Her voice sank almost to a whisper. A flush of shame for
the unknown culprit dyed her cheeks anew.

"It would be better, perhaps," interrupted the teacher sarcastically,
"if you admitted the truth of the affair at once, Miss Harlowe."

"There is nothing to admit," responded Grace steadily, "except that I
lost my theme on the evening I wrote it. When I found it was gone I came
to you at once and asked for another day's time. That same night I
rewrote it as well as I could from memory and handed it to you the
following day."

An ominous silence ensued. Then Miss Duncan said stiffly: "Miss Harlowe,
the young woman who wrote the theme you have in your hand dropped it
into the collection box of another section during the very evening you
would have me believe you were writing it. It was brought to me early
the next morning."

"How do you know that it was dropped into the box the evening before?"
flung back Grace, forgetting for an instant to whom she was speaking.

"Your question is hardly respectful, Miss Harlowe," returned Miss
Duncan, coldly reproving. "I will answer it, however, by saying that I
sent for the young