You may rest
assured that I shall do nothing whatever; at least, not until after
examinations. I have an idea that we may get a clue through them. We
must save Anne, whose life would be utterly ruined by such a false
accusation as this. And I feel convinced that it is false."

"Well, I can tell you one thing, Miss Thompson," returned Grace as she
opened the door, "and that is Anne Pierson never used any perfume in her
life. She hasn't any to use."

Miss Thompson nodded and smiled.

"I was sure of that," she called.

Grace had little time to lose. The examinations, which took place the
next day and the day after, would undoubtedly bring matters to a crisis.

She took the handkerchief from her pocket and sniffed at it. Neither was
she familiar with perfumes, and this odor was new to her. Suddenly an
idea occurred to her and she made straight for the nearest drugstore.

"Mr. Gleason," she demanded of the clerk in charge, "could you tell me
what perfume this is?"

The druggist sniffed thoughtfully at the handkerchief for some seconds.

"It's sandalwood," he said at last. "We received some in stock a week
ago."

CHAPTER XXIII

IN THE THICK OF THE FIGHT

How examinations loom up on the fatal day, like monstrous obstacles that
must be overcome! How the hours slip past, with nothing to break the
stillness save the scratching of pens on foolscap paper, while each
student draws upon the supply of knowledge stored up during the winter
months!

A fly buzzes on the window pane; a teacher rises, tiptoes slowly about
the room and sits down again. She can do nothing, now, but keep watch on
the pairs of drooping shoulders and the tired, flushed faces.

Anne was so absorbed in her work that she was oblivious to everything
about her. Her pen moved with precision over her paper and her copy was
neat and clear.

It was the second day of the examinations and she felt that her fate
would soon be decided; but she was too tired now to worry. She worked on
quietly and steadily. She had almost finished, and, as she answered one
question after another, she was more and more buoyed up by the
conviction that she would win the prize.

Miriam had finished her work. Her impatient nature would not permit her
to do anything slowly. As she gave a last flourishing stroke with her
pen, she leaned back, looking about her. She smiled contemptuously as
her eyes rested on Anne.

"What a shabby, slow little creature she is!" Miriam m