"This incident is closed," she sternly announced to the sullen-faced
author of the mischief. "You understand that there are to be no more of
a similar nature involving us or any other girls here at Wellington?"

"Yes," muttered Elsie.

"Thank you."

Jane had intended the "Thank you" to be her last word. Something in the
expression of abject defeat that looked out from that lowering face
stirred her to sudden pity.

"I'm sorry this had to happen, Miss Noble," she said, almost gently.
"There's only one thing to do; forget it. We intend to. Won't you? I'm
willing to begin over again and----"

"Don't preach to me! I hate you! I'll never forgive you!"

Out of defeat, resentment flared afresh. Darting past the group of
girls, Elsie Noble gained the door which was now unlocked. She flashed
from the room slamming the door behind her with a force that threatened
to shake it from its hinges.

"Some little tempest," cheerfully averred Judith. "Jane, let me
congratulate you. You did the deed."

"Don't congratulate me." Jane scowled fiercely. "I feel like--well, just
what she said I was--a bully. She's not so much to blame. She's a poor
little cat's-paw for Marian Seaton."

"She's to blame for letting herself be influenced by Marian," disagreed
Judith. "How do you suppose she found out about our going to invite the
Bridge Street freshmen to the dance?"

"She must have, of a certainty, listened at our door," declared
Adrienne.

"I don't believe she could hear a thing that way," disagreed Judith.
"These doors are heavy. The sound doesn't go through them. Besides, she
couldn't stand outside and eavesdrop long without being noticed by some
one passing through the hall. Girls are always coming and going, you
know."

"Yet how could she otherwise know these things?" insisted Adrienne.

"Give it up." Judith shook her head. "It's a mystery. She knew them.
Maybe some day we'll know how she learned. We'll probably find out when
we least expect to. Just stumble upon it long after we've forgotten all
about it."

CHAPTER XVI

PLAYING CAVALIER

That evening after dinner, Jane indulged in one of her dark,
floor-tramping moods. The disagreeable interview of the afternoon had
left a bad taste in her mouth. She had done what she had deemed
necessary, but at heart she was intensely disgusted with herself.

She wondered what Dorothy Martin would have done, given the same
circumstances. She longed to tell Dorothy all about