oks sick--or worried to death. What's happened?"

"I don't know," Sue said, shrugging her shoulders. "I thought myself she
looked awfully upset this morning, but when I asked her if anything was
wrong, she said--I can't remember what she did say--but I took it that
she wasn't going to tell, if there was."

"There's something the matter. That look she's got on her face doesn't
spell happiness--not by a long ways."

"Why don't you use your Sherlock Holmes talent on her," Sue inquired
flippantly.

"My what, Sue?"

"This intuition business you were telling us about yesterday. You said
you could read people's thoughts."

"I didn't say I was a mind reader, did I?"

"Well--something like that."

"Oh, Sue, how perfectly ridiculous! Tell that to one or two more and
I'll be a spiritualistic medium holding seances in my room."

Sue laughed, starting the dimples dancing in her cheeks. Those dimples
saved Sue many a scolding. They defended her sharp tongue--exonerated
malice. They pointed like a hand on a sign post to mirth and pure good
nature. "You can't be angry with Sue when those dimples pop out," more
than one girl had said.

The morning had been a trying one for Blue Bonnet. She had great
difficulty in keeping her mind on her studies. Even Professor Howe had
to ask for closer attention--an unheard of thing.

"Are you ill, Miss Ashe?" she had asked, calling Blue Bonnet to the desk
after the class adjourned. "You don't look well. Better go up and show
your tongue to Mrs. Goodwin or Miss Martin."

"It isn't my tongue--that is--I'm not at all ill, thank you, Professor
Howe," Blue Bonnet replied absently.

She passed on to her Latin class, a little droop in her usually straight
shoulders showing listlessness. She sat down by Wee Watts and opened her
book, but her gaze wandered to the window.

"You may translate, Miss Ashe," Miss Attridge said for the second time
and Blue Bonnet did not hear.

A titter went round the room. Blue Bonnet's gaze rested on the
housetops. She was miles and miles away from the small recitation room.

"Come, Miss Ashe, the third oration, please; begin where Miss Watts left
off--Cicero attacks Catiline, saying:"

Blue Bonnet came back with a start, and with Wee's assistance found the
line.

"Oh, I beg your pardon, Miss Attridge. Where Deborah left off, you say?"

It was the same with French and with Algebra. Blue Bonnet's mind was
busy with but one theme--one thought--that revolved r