ng I could write myself."

Miss Randall was for a moment staggered. Was the girl telling her the
truth, or was it only a readily gotten-up excuse? She waited a moment
before she answered, then she said coldly,--

"This will not pass at all. I am sorry you have wasted so much time
upon it; you will begin at once upon your essay, and, for fear you
will be tempted to use some thoughts not your own, I will change the
subject. You will write an essay on 'Truth.' Good-afternoon."

"Miss Ashton!" said Miss Randall, presenting herself, a few moments
after Susan's departure, in the principal's room. "I am afraid Susan
Downer never wrote that excellent story, 'Storied West Rock.' I always
have wondered over it, for it was far superior to anything else she
has done since she has been in school, and now, I am sure, though she
denies it in a very plausible way, that she has copied a poem, with
only a few immaterial changes to make it fit her subject, intending to
palm it off for her own."

Miss Ashton did not answer at once; she was busy thinking. With the
other teachers, her surprise had been great at the ability Susan had
shown in the story; and now, instantly, she connected this report of
Miss Randall's with Marion's embarrassed mention of Susan's name, and
her own intention to discover what was wrong. Perhaps Susan had stolen
it, and Marion had become acquainted with the theft. It was not
impossible, at any rate she must inquire into it, so she said to Miss
Randall.

A day or two was allowed to pass before any further notice was taken
of it, then Miss Ashton had decided to spare Marion, and call Susan
directly to her. Susan had word sent to her that she was wanted in the
principal's room, and obeyed the summons with a heavy heart.

"Susan!" said Miss Ashton, "I am willing to believe that you copied
your poem with the innocent intention of passing it off as a parody,
and that you really did not know it could not be accepted, but there
is one other thing that troubles me. Some time ago you wrote an
excellent story called 'Storied West Rock;' was that yours, or another
parody?"

[Illustration: Susan dropped her head upon her chest, the color surging
into her face, and the tears dropping from her eyes; but she did not
speak a word.--Page 343. _Miss Ashton's New Pupil._]

Susan! Susan! Tell the truth now; tell it at once, simply, honestly.
Do not conceal even how you have suffered from it, not even how unkind
and cross you