w look here, Harry," he began contritely. But Harry had found her
tongue and he got no farther.

"Oh, you coward!" she cried, trembling. "You--you beast! I know my
hair's red, and I don't care if it is! And, anyway, I'd rather have it
red than just no color at all, like--like a fish!"

"Harry, I didn't mean--"

"Don't you speak to me again, ever and ever! I don't want to see you! I
hate you, hate you, hate you, Roy Porter, and I'll never speak to you
again as long as I live!"

"Oh, if you want to be nasty about it," muttered Roy.

But Harry had turned and was running swiftly along the path, trying her
best to keep back the angry tears that threatened every moment to
disgrace her. Roy watched her go, whistled softly, and then followed
slowly after.

"What a little spit-fire!" he muttered with a laugh that was half angry
and half regretful. "I don't see what I said, anyhow, except that her
hair was red. And it is, as red as fire! If she wants to stay mad she
may for all I care."

And then, two days later, there occurred an incident which still further
widened the breach between them.

Mr. Buckman opened his desk in Room B in School Hall and stared in
amazement. It was the first recitation and the class in geometry watched
interestedly. The instructor held forth a white rabbit in each hand.

"Who put these in here?" he demanded sternly.

There was no answer. The class was smiling broadly, but Mr. Buckman's
expression prohibited the laughter they longed to indulge in.

"It was a very funny joke," continued Mr. Buckman scathingly, "only,
unfortunately, one of the rabbits has been stupid enough to die and so
is unable to appreciate it. The other one appears to be on the point of
dying. I presume that they belong to Miss Harriet. I fancy she will
appreciate the joke heartily. I hope to be able to discover the
perpetrator of the delicate jest, in which case he will undoubtedly get
all the applause he desires."

Mr. Buckman bore the rabbits out of the room and the class, much
soberer, looked questioningly about and whispered inquiries. But
everyone professed ignorance on the subject.

"Ought to have his head punched, whoever he is," growled Chub to Roy.
And the latter heartily agreed.

When the class was dismissed Harry was waiting, with a white face and
blazing eyes, in the corridor. She made for Roy instantly.

"They're both dead," she cried, "and I hope you're satisfied. Of all
nasty, mean things to do, Roy