t into Beaumonde required a clean
record from the former academy, and would Mrs. Pangborn furnish such a
record under the circumstances?

It was evening, and the other girls were probably enjoying themselves,
visiting about and settling wherever there was the best prospect of
fudge--the only confection students were allowed to make in their rooms.

But Viola would not go out, she was in no humor for visiting. While
reclining on her small white bed, thinking the situation over until her
head ached from very monotony, a note was slipped under her door. She
saw it instantly but did not at once attempt to pick it up--the sender
might be waiting outside and notice her readiness to become acquainted
with the contents.

Hearing the light step make its way down the hall Viola took and opened
the note.

"Humph!" she sniffed, "from Adele Thomas." Then she glanced over the
note. It read:

MY DEAR VIOLA:

We are all so worried about you. Do please come out of your room or
let some of us in. We wish very much to talk to you, but if you
persist in keeping us at bay won't you please make up your mind to
apologize at once to Miss Higley? There are so many counts against us
this month that the latest is positively dangerous in its present form.
Do Viola, dear, answer, and tell us you feel better and that you will
comply with the request of the committee. Lovingly yours,

LOWLY.

"Apologize!" echoed the girl. "As if my mother's daughter could ever
stoop to that weak American method of crawling out of things!" and her
dark eyes flashed while her olive face became as intense as if the girl
were a desperate woman.

"Don't they know that the blood of the de Carlos flows in my veins?"
she asked herself. "No, that's so, they do not know it--nor shall
they. Let them think me Italian, French or whatever they choose--but
let them not trifle with Spain. Ah, Spain! and how I have longed to
see that beautiful country with mother--darling mother!"

This thought of affection never failed to soften the temper of the wily
Viola. True she had seen fit always to hide her mother's nationality
from the schoolgirls. Often they had questioned her about her foreign
face and manners, but like many who do not admire the frankness of
Americans, it had pleased her to remain simply "foreign."

A supercilious smile crept over Viola's face. She held Adele's note in
her hand and read it again.

"Worried about me!" she repeated, "as if