suggested another thing to Ruth Fielding, something which she had been
racking her brains about for some time.

This idea had nothing to do with the present play; it had to do, instead,
with Mercy Curtis and the graduation exercises. One idea bred another in
Ruth Fielding's teeming brain. Her dramatic faculties, were being
sharpened.

With all their regular studies and recitations, the seniors had to take
their usual turns as monitors, and Ruth could not escape this duty.
Besides, it was an honor not to be scorned, to be chosen to preside over
the "primes," or to take the head of a table at dinner.

A teacher was ill on one day and Miss Brokaw asked Ruth to take certain
classes of the primary grade. The recitations were on subjects quite
familiar to Ruth and she felt no hesitancy in accepting the
responsibility; but there was more ahead of her than she supposed when she
entered on the task.

As it chanced, the flaxen-haired Amy Gregg was in the class of which Ruth
was sent to take charge. Amy scowled at the senior when the latter took
the desk; but most of the other girls were glad to see Ruth Fielding.

A little wrangle seemed to have begun before Ruth arrived, and the senior
thought to settle the difficulty and start the day with "clear decks," by
getting at the seat of the trouble.

"What is the matter, Mary Pease?" she asked a flushed and indignant girl
who was angrily glaring at another. "Calm down, honey. Don't let your
anger rise."

"If Amy Gregg says again that I took her gold pen, I'll tell something
about _her_ she won't like, now I warn her!" threatened Mary.

"Well, it's gone!" stormed Amy, "and you're the nearest. I'd like to know
who took it if you didn't?"

"Well! of all the nerve! I want you to understand that I don't have to
steal pens."

"Hold on, girls," put in Ruth. "This must not go on. You know, I shall be
obliged to report you both."

"Of course!" snarled Amy. "You big girls are always telling on us."

"Oh!" and "Shame!" was the general murmur about the classroom; for most of
the girls loved Ruth.

"Why, you nasty thing!" cried Mary Pease, glaring at Amy. "You ought to be
ashamed. I'll tell what I know about _you_!"

"Mary!" exclaimed Ruth, with sudden fright. "Be still."

"I guess you don't know what I know about Gregg, Ruth Fielding," cried the
excited Mary.

"We do not want to know," Ruth said hastily. "Let us stop this wrangling
and turn to our work. Suppose Miss Brokaw s