eep an eye on Miss Genevieve.

Next morning, according to the prefects' plans, Patricia and Catherine
haunted the front corridor. Patricia even took up a post just inside the
sitting-room door and watched through the crack, but the corridor was
deserted all morning. Helen and Esther took the afternoon watch and had
no better luck.

Esther saw the mistress distribute the evening mail, putting several
letters into pigeon-hole "S," which had been empty until now, and then
came a rush of fifty girls crowding round the box. Esther reported
afterwards to Eleanor that whoever did it managed very quickly, for she
was watching all the time. Genevieve put up her hand, drew out of
pigeon-hole "S" another printed letter, and with a faint cry collapsed
in a dead faint. At least so her condition was described to those few
who were not privileged to be present. Ambulance classes had not been
held in vain at York Hill, and in less time than it takes to tell
Genevieve found herself on the sofa in the housekeeper's room, where she
proceeded to indulge in an old-fashioned fit of hysterics.

Judith, who had helped carry her in, wanted to stay and see, if
possible, whether Genevieve were shamming, but Mrs. Bronson shooed them
all out saying that Genevieve must have an hour's rest and then she
could go to the Infirmary.

Judith returned to the corridor where she found excited groups
discussing this third terrible letter. Some of the girls talked with
lowered voices and several looked almost as white as Genevieve had, and
when our heroine entered the "Jolly Susan," it was as little like its
name as possible. Sally May was sobbing audibly and Nancy was trying in
vain to comfort her.

"Horrid things! I hate them all. Why should they think I would do such a
nasty trick?" she heard between the sobs.

Josephine appeared in Judith's doorway.

"It's a shame, isn't it?" she whispered. "I would like to knock their
silly heads together. I don't wonder Sally's mad, and I believe that
Catherine is crying, too."

Judith was horrified.

"Catherine crying! Why in the world should she cry?"

"Well, you know," said Josephine, "it's rotten for her, and probably she
believes that Miss Marlowe thinks she has been silly, too. I don't know
for sure, but she wouldn't let Eleanor in a few minutes ago, and her
voice sounded shaky."

This was awful! A prefect weeping!

Two days passed without any further development and Eleanor was
beginning to hope th