Toinette.

"What did it look like, Fraulein?" asked Cicely.

"Chust like thees," was the astonishing answer, as absent-minded Fraulein
held forth the missing umbrella, which all that time she had held tightly
clasped in her hand, and which had been the cause of Edith's question as
to whether she had more than one, for she supposed, of course, that the
one Fraulein was so tightly holding must either be one she did not care to
carry, or else one she was about to return to someone from whom she had
probably borrowed it.

The shout which was raised at her reply speedily brought poor Fraulein
back to her senses, and murmuring:

"Ach, so! I think I come _veruckt_," she hurried off down the hall with
the girls' laughter still ringing in her ears.

CHAPTER XVIII

THE LITTLE HINGE

The day before the dance was to be given Toinette wrote her second letter,
arguing that when everybody else had so much to occupy their thoughts they
would have little time to notice other people's doings, and the letter
could be mailed without exciting comment. Waiting until the very last
moment, she ran down to the mail-basket to slip the letter in it
unobserved. As ill-luck would have it, Miss Preston also had a letter to
be slipped in at the last moment, and she and Toinette came face to face.
It was too late to retreat, for the letter was in her hand in plain view,
so, forced into an awkward position, she made a bad matter worse. Dropping
the letter quickly into the basket, she said:

"Just a note for papa about something I want for the dance to-morrow, Miss
Preston; I didn't think you'd care, and I hadn't time to do it earlier,"
and, with flaming cheeks, she turned to go away.

"Wait just one moment, dear," said Miss Preston, "I've something to say to
you. Walk down to my room with me, please," and she slipped her arm about
the girl's waist.

No more was needed, and all the suspicion and rebellion in Toinette's
nature rose up to do battle with--windmills. It was a hard young face that
looked defiantly at Miss Preston.

"Toinette, dear, I want to have a little talk with you," she said, as she
locked the door of her sitting-room, and, seating herself upon the divan,
drew Toinette down beside her.

Toinette never changed her expression, but looked straight before her with
a most uncompromising stare.

"You said just now that you did not think I would care if you sent a note
to your father; why should I, sweetheart?"

It m