who had done you a lot of harm. I
know now that _she_ isn't. I know that _you_ are. I'm sorry that you're
my cousin and I don't intend to have anything further to do with you."

When Elsie had begun speaking, Mrs. Weatherbee had been on the point of
checking her. She refrained, however, because she realized suddenly that
Marian deserved this arraignment. She had manufactured trouble out of
whole cloth; now she fully merited her cousin's plain speaking.

"You have said a good deal about injustice, Mrs. Weatherbee. I think it
very unfair that I should be accused of something which I don't in the
least understand," began Marian, with a fine pretense of injured
innocence. "I should like to see the letter you accuse me of writing."

From underneath the pile of papers on the table, the matron drew forth a
typed letter. She handed it to Marian without a word.

Marian read it, then laughed disagreeably.

"No wonder Elsie knew of it," she sneered. "This is some of her work.
She was crazy to get into Madison Hall with us. She knew there would be
no vacancies. I had told her that. She listened to what I had said about
Miss Allen, every word of it's true, too, by the way, and had someone
type this letter. After that she applied for admission. Very clever
indeed, Elsie, but you mustn't lay it to me. The signature is certainly
not in my handwriting."

It was now Marian's turn to look triumphant.

"The whole trouble with Elsie is that I threatened to expose her for
eavesdropping," she continued. "She has made me all this fuss simply to
be even. She knows that she is responsible for this letter. The fact
that she mentioned it to you, Mrs. Weatherbee, is proof enough, I should
say. Certainly you have no proof that I had anything to do with it,
beyond what she says. Her word counts for nothing."

A breathless silence followed Marian's bold turning of the tables. Elsie
gave a sharp gasp of pure consternation.

"Oh, I didn't do it!" she stammered, casting an appealing glance about
her. "I--hope--you--don't--believe----"

"Here is the proof that you didn't," broke in Jane Allen's resolute
tones. She had resolved to come to the defense of the girl who had so
sturdily defended Judith. From her blouse she had drawn Eleanor's letter
and the carbon copy of the letter which Mrs. Weatherbee had received.

When the latter had finished examining both, she looked up and said in a
dry, hard voice:

"This is the most dishonorable affair I