her own study.

"Enter!" said Miss Picolet's soft voice in answer to Ruth's timid rap
on the panel of the door.

The girl entered and found the little French teacher sewing by the
window. Miss Picolet looked up, saw who it was, and welcomed Ruth with
a smile.

"I hope you have had a joyful day, Miss Ruth," she said. "Come to the
radiator--you are cold."

"I am going to run upstairs in a moment, Mademoiselle," said Ruth,
hesitatingly. "But I have a message for you."

"A message for me?" said the lady, in surprise.

"Yes, ma'am."

"From the Preceptress, Ruth?"

"No, Miss Picolet. It--it is a letter that has been given me to be
handed to you--secretly."

The little teacher's withered cheek flushed and her bright little eyes
clouded. By the way one of her hands fluttered over her heart, too,
Ruth knew that Miss Picolet was easily frightened.

"A letter for me?" she whispered.

Ruth was unbuttoning her coat and frock to get at the letter. She said:

"There was an orchestra on that boat that was frozen into the ice, Miss
Picolet. One of the musicians spoke to me. He knew you--or said he
did----"

The girl hated to go on, Miss Picolet turned so pale and looked so
frightened. But it had to be done, and Ruth pursued her story:

"I had seen the man before--the day we came to school here, Helen and
I. He played the harp on the _Lanawaxa_."

"Ah!" gasped the French woman, holding out her hand. "No more, my
dear! I understand. Let me have it."

But now Ruth hesitated and stammered, and felt in the bosom of her
dress with growing fear. She looked at Miss Picolet, her own face
paling.

"Oh, Miss Picolet!" she suddenly burst out. "What will you think?
What can I say?"

"What--what is the matter?" gasped the French teacher.

"I--I haven't got it--it is gone!"

"What do you mean, Ruth Fielding?" cried Miss Picolet, springing to her
feet.

"It's gone--I've lost it! Oh, my dear Miss Picolet! I didn't mean to.
I tried to be so careful. But I have lost the letter he gave me
addressed to you!"

CHAPTER XXIV

"WHO IS THE TATTLE-TALE?"

The next day the whole school were at their books again--the short
Thanksgiving recess was ended. It had been just a breathing space for
the girls who really were anxious to stand well in their classes at
Briarwood Hall. Those who--like some of the Upedes--desired nothing so
much as "fun," complained because the vacation had been so short, and
dawdled