rn in his temper laid a sparkling crust over everything--and
especially the little snowlady who waited, immovable, on a little rise
of ground near the main entrance of the school.

The pupils, arriving at Highacres the next morning, rubbed their eyes in
their amazement. Not one failed to recognize the English teacher in the
funny, shawl-draped figure, with enormous glasses framing round blue
eyes, shadowed by a hat that was almost an exact counterpart of the
shabby one Miss Gray had hung each morning for the past three winters on
her peg in the dressing-room. But there was something about the rakish
tilt of the hat that was in such strange contrast to the severe
spectacles and the thin, frosty nose, that it gave the snowlady the
appearance of staggering and made her very funny.

All through the school session groups of pupils gathered at the windows,
laughing. There was much speculating as to who had built the snowlady;
the three little sub-freshmen who had begun the work Ginny had finished
were vehement in their assertions that they had not. Gradually it was
whispered about that Ginny Cox had done it.

"We might have known that," several laughed, thinking Ginny very clever.

Then, over those invisible currents of communication which convey news
through a school faster than a flame can spread, came the rumor that
trouble was brewing. One of the monitors had told Dorrie Carr that Miss
Gray had had hysterics in the office; that, in the midst of them, she
had written out her resignation and that, after the first period, not an
English class had been held!

Another added the information that Barbara Lee had quieted Miss Gray
with spirits of ammonia and that Dr. Caton had refused to accept her
resignation and had been overheard to say that the culprit would be
punished severely.

Ginny's prank began to assume serious proportions. Ginny was more
thoughtless than unkind; it had not crossed her mind that she might
offend little Miss Gray. But she was not brave, either--she had not the
courage to go straight to Miss Gray and apologize for her careless,
thoughtless act.

There had been, for a number of years, one well-established punishment
at Lincoln; "privileges" were taken away from offenders, the term of the
sentences depending upon the enormity of the offence. And "privileges"
included many things--sitting in the study-room, mingling with the other
pupils in the lunch rooms at recess, sharing the school athletics. Thi