o her bureau, in whatever order the articles
presented themselves--but with a carefully folded top layer. The
overworked young teacher, who performed the ungrateful task of
inspecting sixty-four bureaus and sixty-four closets every Saturday
morning, was happily of an unsuspicious nature. She did not penetrate
below the crust.

"Lordy needn't make such a fuss over my standing," said Priscilla,
frowning over an armful of clothes. "I passed everything except Latin."

"Take care, Pris! You're walking on my new dancing dress," cried Patty,
as her head emerged from the neck of the blouse.

Priscilla automatically stepped off a mass of blue chiffon, and resumed
her plaint.

"If they think sticking me in with Job's youngest daughter is going to
improve my prose composition--"

"I simply _can't_ study till they take Irene McCullough out of my room,"
Conny echoed. "She's just like a lump of sticky dough."

"Wait till you get acquainted with Mae Mertelle!" Patty sat on the floor
in the midst of the chaos, and gazed up at the other two with wide,
solemn eyes. "She brought five evening gowns cut low, and all her shoes
have French heels. And she _laces_--my dears! She just holds in her
breath and pulls. But that isn't the worst." She lowered her voice to a
confidential whisper. "She's got some red stuff in a bottle. She says
it's for her finger nails, but I _saw_ her putting it on her face."

"Oh!--not really?" in a horrified whisper from Conny and Priscilla.

Patty shut her lips and nodded.

"Isn't it dreadful?"

"Awful!" Conny shuddered.

"I say, let's mutiny!" cried Priscilla. "Let's _make_ the Dowager give
us back our old rooms in Paradise Alley."

"But how?" inquired Patty, two parallel wrinkles appearing on her
forehead.

"Tell her that unless she does, we won't stay."

"That would be sensible!" Patty jeered. "She'd ring the bell and order
Martin to hitch up the hearse and drive us to the station for the
six-thirty train. I should think you'd know by this time that you can't
bluff the Dowager."

"There's no use threatening," Conny agreed. "We must appeal to her
feeling of--of--"

"Affection," said Patty.

Conny stretched out a hand and brought her up standing.

"Come on, Patty, you're good at talking. We'll go down now while our
courage is up.--Are your hands clean?"

The three staunchly approached the door of Mrs. Trent's private study.

"I'll use diplomacy," Patty whispered, as she turned the knob in