see her, she went downstairs to
the matron's office, fully equipped for emergency. The recital which she
indignantly poured into the latter's shocked ears was the climax to an
eventful day for Mrs. Weatherbee.

It may be said to Elsie's credit that she did not spare herself or even
attempt to palliate her own offenses. She made a frank confession of her
faults and expressed an honest and sincere contrition for them which
showed plainly that her feet were at last planted upon the solid ground
of right. She was no longer the "ignoble Noble."

"After what I've told you, I know you won't allow me to live here at the
Hall any more," she said huskily. "I deserve to be punished. I'm going
to accept it, too, as bravely as I can. I've been doing wrong all year,
but at last I've come to my senses. I know that for once I'm doing right
and it comforts me a good deal."

This straightforward avowal would have moved to compassion a far
harder-hearted woman than was Mrs. Weatherbee. The matron realized that
the dry-eyed, resolute-faced girl seated opposite her had been punished
sufficiently by her own conscience.

"I shall _not_ ask you to leave Madison Hall, my dear child," she
assured very gently. "I wish you to stay on here because I am convinced
that would be best for you. In justice to others, however, I must ask
you to come to my room this evening, prepared to stand by me in whatever
I may require of you."

"I thank you, Mrs. Weatherbee," Elsie said with deep earnestness. "I'll
be only too glad to stand by you. I'm going upstairs now to get my wraps
and I sha'n't be here to dinner to-night. I know Marian will be looking
for me as soon as she receives word from you to come to her room. It
will be best for me not to see her again until then. Don't you think
so?"

"Under the circumstances, I should prefer that you hold no conversation
with her beforehand," agreed the matron.

Thus ended the momentous interview. Woman and girl pledged their good
faith in a warm hand clasp, and Elsie left the office feeling like one
from whose shoulders a heavy burden had suddenly dropped.

* * * * *

"_Where_ is Elsie?" was Marian Seaton's desperate inquiry, when at five
minutes to eight she entered her room, following a fruitless search for
her cousin.

"Search me," shrugged Maizie. "Very likely Weatherbee never said a word
to her. I know she hadn't as late as luncheon to-day, for I asked Elsie
and she sa