Joy wheeled on her stool.

"For a minute," she said. "I'm busy."

"It will only take a minute, I fancy. When do you intend to acknowledge
the book you hid in Blue Bonnet Ashe's drawer while she was away?"

The shock was so sudden--so unexpected--that Joy Cross grew faint. Every
vestige of color died out of her face.

"I don't know what you mean," she said slowly. "What are you talking
about?"

"You know what I'm talking about, all right. Do you remember the day
two weeks ago when we were out walking and stopped in that queer little
book shop? One of the girls wanted to get her Quatre-vingt-treize. You
went to another part of the shop--alone. I came up behind you--something
had attracted my attention--you didn't see me. I heard you ask for the
book--I will not mention the name. I saw the clerk hand it to you--give
you your change. Saw the whole transaction with my own eyes! This is no
hearsay."

Joy Cross turned round to the piano and hid her face in her hands.

"I haven't words to express my opinion of you, Joy Cross," Annabel went
on. "A girl who would put another girl in the position you have put Blue
Bonnet Ashe--as honest and innocent a girl as ever drew the breath of
life. You're a coward--a miserable--"

Joy turned and threw out her hand beseechingly.

"Wait," she said, "please wait! I want to tell you. I'm all you say,
perhaps--but--if you would only listen--"

Annabel had turned away impatiently.

"I didn't mean to hurt Blue Bonnet Ashe--please believe that, Annabel.
It was all a mistake--an accident. I thought it would right itself, and
I kept still. I did buy the book--I was reading it in my room; some one
knocked at the door--I was sitting by Blue Bonnet's bureau--I reached
over and laid it in her drawer--just until I opened the door. I meant to
take it right out again--but--it was Miss Martin. She was inspecting
drawers--she found the book--she--I--oh, can't you see how it was--how
it all happened--so quickly? I couldn't think of anything but the
disgrace. I wanted to save myself. I wouldn't have cared so much if I
hadn't been a Senior. I thought it might keep me from graduating--from
some of the honors that I have fought for. I never dreamed it would go
so far. I thought--oh, I don't know what I thought--why I did it. I
suppose I'm ruined utterly."

She burst into the wildest weeping. Tears sprang to Annabel's own eyes.
She was a sympathetic girl. She wished she could bring herself to put