considered for some time; and at last said: "I must
think over this. Would you mind leaving it in my hands for the present?"

Mrs. Miller said that she did not care in whose hands it remained
provided her own were washed of it, and resumed her work at the papers.
Miss Wilson then, wishing to be alone, went into the empty classroom at
the other side of the landing. She took the Fault Book from its shelf
and sat down before it. Its record closed with the announcement, in
Agatha's handwriting:

"Miss Wilson has called me impertinent, and has written to my uncle that
I have refused to obey the rules. I was not impertinent; and I never
refused to obey the rules. So much for Moral Force!"

Miss Wilson rose vigorously, exclaiming: "I will soon let her
know whether--" She checked herself, and looked round hastily,
superstitiously fancying that Agatha might have stolen into the room
unobserved. Reassured that she was alone, she examined her conscience as
to whether she had done wrong in calling Agatha impertinent, justifying
herself by the reflection that Agatha had, in fact, been impertinent.
Yet she recollected that she had refused to admit this plea on a recent
occasion when Jane Carpenter had advanced it in extenuation of having
called a fellow-student a liar. Had she then been unjust to Jane, or
inconsiderate to Agatha?

Her casuistry was interrupted by some one softly whistling a theme from
the overture to Masaniello, popular at the college in the form of an
arrangement for six pianofortes and twelve hands. There was only one
student unladylike and musical enough to whistle; and Miss Wilson was
ashamed to find herself growing nervous at the prospect of an encounter
with Agatha, who entered whistling sweetly, but with a lugubrious
countenance. When she saw in whose presence she stood, she begged pardon
politely, and was about to withdraw, when Miss Wilson, summoning all her
Judgment and tact, and hoping that they would--contrary to their custom
in emergencies--respond to the summons, said:

"Agatha, come here. I want to speak to you."

Agatha closed her lips, drew in a long breath through her nostrils, and
marched to within a few feet of Miss Wilson, where she halted with her
hands clasped before her.

"Sit down."

Agatha sat down with a single movement, like a doll.

"I don't understand that, Agatha," said Miss Wilson, pointing to the
entry in the Recording Angel. "What does it mean?"

"I am unfairly treated,"