ishment of most of her companions, did Muriel. Cissie Gardiner and
Maggie Woodhall followed suit, but the others looked doubtful.

"I suppose we must accept Patty's word," said Beatrice, rather stiffly.
"Still, it's a funny thing, and I wish it hadn't happened."

"Very funny, certainly, for the one who started the pledge," said Vera
Clifford, under her breath.

"We shall find it out some day," said Enid. "I'm determined Patty's name
shall be cleared. How any of you can be so idiotic as to connect her
with it, I can't imagine. Never mind, Patty dear! We know you better
than to believe such rubbish. Don't trouble your head about it, for it
simply isn't worth worrying over. Everyone with a spark of sense will
agree with me, and I'm sure Miss Harper will think the same."

CHAPTER XI

The Summer Term

In spite of Enid's advice not to worry about the Caesar translation,
Patty could not help taking the matter deeply to heart. Though none of
the girls openly accused her, she felt that the unjust suspicion clung
to her, and that many were undecided whether to consider her guilty or
innocent. That she, of all in the class, the one who had striven so hard
for the cause of right and honour, should be obliged to remain with this
blot upon the white page of her school career, seemed the greatest trial
which she could be called upon to bear. The worst of it was that she
could not even discuss it freely with her friends. The more she thought
about the affair, the more sure she felt that the book must have
belonged to Muriel, and the latter's rather conscious manner only
confirmed her suspicion. The class, finding that Muriel disliked to hear
the subject mentioned, naturally concluded that she was ashamed for her
cousin's name to be connected with anything dishonourable, and by
common consent never alluded to it in her presence. Muriel avoided Patty
more than ever, confining herself strictly to Vera Clifford's company,
and keeping aloof from the rest of the girls, who, indeed, found her so
supercilious and disagreeable that they were not very anxious to be on
friendly terms with her. Miss Harper, since burning the translation, had
not referred to it again; yet, though she did not apparently relax any
of the trust which she usually placed in her pupils, all were conscious
of an increased vigilance in her observation of them.

"She's watching us," said Avis one day. "I can't quite describe how, but
I feel as if Miss Harper