girl has been
blabbing. The farmer or the conductor or the motorman would have told at
once. They wouldn't have waited until three months and more had passed."

"Oh dear, Neale! do you think that?"

"It looks just like a mean girl's trick. Some telltale," returned the
boy, in disgust.

"Trix Severn might do it, I s'pose, because she doesn't like me any
more."

"You remember what Mr. Marks told us all last spring when we grammar
grade fellows were let into the high school athletics? He said that
one's conduct outside of school would govern the amount of latitude he
would allow us in school athletics. I guess he meant you girls, too."

"He's an awfully strict old thing!" complained Agnes.

"They tell me," pursued Neale O'Neil, "that once a part of the baseball
nine played hookey to go swimming at Ryer's Ford, and Mr. Marks
immediately forfeited all the games in the Inter-scholastic League for
that year, and so punished the whole school."

"That's not fair!" exploded Agnes.

"I don't know whether it is or not. But I know the baseball captain this
year was mighty strict with us fellows."

The topic of the promised punishment of the basket ball team for an old
offense was discussed almost as much at the Corner House that evening as
was the "lady in gray" and the sovereigns of England.

Tess kept these last subjects alive, for she was studying the rhyme and
would try to recite it to everybody that would listen--including Linda,
who scarcely understood ten words of English, and Sandyface and her
family, gathered for their supper in the woodshed. Tess was troubled
about the closing of the Women's and Children's Hospital, because of its
effect upon Mrs. Eland, too.

"'First William, the Norman,
Then William, the son;
Henry, Stephen and----'

I do hope," ruminated Tess, "that that poor Mrs. Eland won't be turned
out of her place. Don't you hope so, Ruthie?"

"I am sure it would be a calamity if the hospital were closed," agreed
the older sister. "And the matron must be a very lovely lady, as you
say, Tess."

"She is awfully nice--isn't she, Dot?" pursued Tess, who usually
expected the support of Dorothy.

"Just as nice as she can be," agreed the smallest Corner House girl.
"Couldn't she come to live in our house if she can't stay in the
horsepistol any longer?"

"At the _what_, child?" gasped Agnes. "What is it you said?"

"Well--where she lives now," Dot responded, dodging the doubtful wo