hich the young girl's prospects, her work
and health had all come under consideration. And then in the gentlest
possible way Miss Thompson had produced the letter.

"Is this yours, Anne?" she asked.

Anne started violently.

"O Miss Thompson," she cried, making a great effort to keep back her
tears, "where did you find it? I spent one entire afternoon here looking
for it. It was the very day you and Miss Leece were here."

"Oh, you saw us then," replied the principal. "And where were you?"

"I was outside on the steps," replied Anne. "Didn't Miss Leece mention
it? She looked up and saw me just as you unlocked the door. Then the
other door slammed and some one hurried down the passage. I saw her,
too, but----"

"But what, Anne?" asked the principal slowly.

"But I am not sure who it was."

"Have you an idea?"

"I could only guess from the outline of her figure," replied Anne. "And
it wouldn't be fair to tell her name unless I had seen her plainly. It
might have been some one else."

Anne had a suspicion that something had happened, and that Miss Thompson
had brought her here to find out what she knew. But she never dreamed
that she herself was under suspicion.

One thing had struck Miss Thompson very forcibly. Miss Leece had known
all along that Anne was on the staircase at the very moment the other
person was slamming the door in their faces. And yet Miss Leece was
determined to condemn Anne to the faculty that very night. She had said
so in as many words, in defiance of the principal's arguments against
such a course.

"Well, good night, my child," she said at last, giving Anne a motherly
kiss. "You have done a good winter's work and I am proud of you."

Anne hurried away, clutching the letter in her hand. She wondered if
Miss Thompson had read it, and somehow she didn't mind so much after
all. The principal seemed to her the very embodiment of all that was
good and kind.

Miss Thompson was destined to have several callers that afternoon. In a
few moments Grace hurried in, breathless and excited.

"Look at that, Miss Thompson," cried the girl, thrusting a handkerchief
into her hand. "Look at it and smell it."

"Well," replied the principal, "I've seen it before and smelled it
before, too. Only you've had it washed and ironed, haven't you!"

Grace took a crumpled handkerchief from her pocket.

"Here's the real one," she cried triumphantly.

The two handkerchiefs were certainly identical in shape