hat I--read it," she breathed. Then, suddenly, she
snatched up the papers again. "But she mustn't know--she _mustn't_
know," choked the girl. "Maybe, if I run, I can get there in time and
tuck it into her desk. I _must_ get there in time," she declared aloud,
darting out of the house and up the street without once looking back
toward an amazed Miss Jane, watching her from the window.

As Genevieve hoped would be the case, the janitor had not finished his
nightly duties. The great front door stood wide open, and Genevieve made
short work of reaching her own room. As she opened that door, however,
she paused in dismay.

Miss Hart was in her chair. Her arms lay folded on the desk before her,
and her face was hidden in them.

The knob under Genevieve's nerveless fingers clicked sharply, and Miss
Hart raised her head with a start.

During the one brief moment that Genevieve gazed into her teacher's
startled eyes, wild plans raced through her mind: she would run; she
would go to her own desk and leave the papers, then destroy the fateful
letter to-morrow; she would walk up and hand the letter to Miss Hart
now, and confess that she had read it; she would--

"Why, Genevieve!" cried Miss Hart, a little huskily. "Did you--forget
something?"

"No, Miss Hart; yes--well, I mean--it isn't that I _forgot_ exactly.
I--I didn't know," she faltered, realizing more than ever the meaning of
the letter she had just read, now that the wistful-eyed writer of it sat
before her, bearing plain evidence of tears.

"Can I do anything for you?" Miss Hart asked.

Genevieve went, then, straight to the desk. The papers--with the
letter--were rolled tightly in one hand.

"No, Miss Hart, thank you; but--isn't there something that--that I can
do for--you?" she faltered.

What happened next was, to Genevieve, certainly, most disconcerting.
Miss Hart gave one look into Genevieve's eyes, then dropped her face
into her hands and burst into tears. At Genevieve's aghast exclamation,
however, she raised her head determinedly and began to wipe her eyes.

"There, there, my dear," she smiled brightly, winking off the tears.
"That was very foolish and very silly of me, and you must forget all
about it. I was a little homesick, I'm afraid, and perhaps a bit blue;
and your eyes looked into mine so frankly and honestly, and with such a
courageous 'I'll-try-to-help-you' look, that--that--well, you know what
I did. But come--let us talk no more of this, my