the little spots of jollity,
club meetings, evening fudge parties and the like having suddenly been
abandoned, and Dorothy, with Rose-Mary, was trying to find comfort in
watching a winter sunset.

"Did you know Mrs. Pangborn had come back?" asked Rose, burying her
chin in her palms, and dropping into a reclining attitude.

"No," said Dorothy, simply, still watching the floating clouds.

"Yes, and I overheard a maid ask Viola Green to go to the office after
tea."

"Viola?" echoed Dorothy abstractedly.

"Of course you know it is she who made all this fuss, and I'm right
glad she has been called to give an explanation at last."

"I have not been able to get the least hint of what it was all about,"
mused Dorothy. "I had a letter from Tavia to-day, and I'm afraid she
cannot come back this term. My last lingering hope went out when I
read that. Tavia would be sure to dig it out someway."

Rose-Mary thought how foolish had been the talk she had "dug out," and
smiled when she imagined Tavia at work at such nonsense. But she would
not pain Dorothy with the thought of that talk--too silly and too
unkind to bother her with,--decided Rose, so that then, as well as on
other occasions when the opportunity came to her to mention the arrest
story, she let it pass.

"Let's go see Dick," suggested Rose, "we'll find Ned there and perhaps
we may manage some fun. I'm positively getting musty."

"You go," said Dorothy, just as Rose had expected, "I'll do my
exercises--I'm pages behind."

"Not without you," argued the other, "I have lots I ought to do, but
I'm going to cut it for this night. Come along," and she took
Dorothy's arm. "I'm dying to hear Ned sing a coon song."

But they found number twenty-three vacant. Edna was out, so was Molly,
in fact everybody seemed to be out, for knots of girls talked in every
corner of the halls and always stopped speaking when Dorothy and Rose
came up to them.

"It's the investigation!" whispered Rose. "They are waiting for Viola;
did you ever see such a crowd of magpies."

"I'm going in," said Dorothy, nervously. "I can't bear the way they
look at me."

"All right," assented Rose, "I'll see you home since I dragged you out.
And I'll promise to make known to you the words of the very first
bulletin. Sorry to be so cruel, but I cannot find any sympathy in my
heart for Viola Green."

"Oh, indeed I can," spoke up the kind-hearted Dorothy. "She has so
much worry about her mo