would be better than suffering the
unkind looks and the doubtful whispers of her school companions.

Nancy was not afraid of ordinary things. The possibility of hunger and
cold did not daunt her. She knew that, if she left the school secretly,
and ran away and found a place to work, she might often be in need. But
if she could only go where people would not ask questions!

She was quite as old as Scorch O'Brien, she thought. And see how
independent that flame-haired youngster was! Nancy knew she could take
care of herself alone in the city as well as Scorch. She had enough
money left to get her to Cincinnati, and something over.

How she got through her lessons after dinner she never knew; but she
did, somehow. Then she crept up to her dormitory and to her delight
found it empty. She gathered together a few of her simplest possessions
and crammed them into her handbag. She took only those things that would
not be at once missed. She touched nothing on her bureau.

When she had locked the bag she opened the window and peered out. It was
already growing dark; but far away, on the frozen river, she could hear
the ring of skates and the silvery shouts of laughter from the girls.

Nobody stirred in the pinewood, nor in the shrubbery closer to the Hall.
Nancy waited for a minute to see if she was observed, and then she
tossed the bag into the middle of a clump of bushes not far from her
window.

She believed nobody had seen her. She closed the sash and picked up her
cap and coat. She rolled these into as small and compact a bundle as
possible and then left the room quietly.

Corinne Pevay was coming through the corridor.

"Hullo, Nancy Nelson!" she said, cheerfully, putting her hand upon the
younger girl's shoulder. "What did you want to be such a perfect little
brick for?"

"I--I don't know what you mean?" quoth Nancy, shrinking under the
senior's touch.

"Why, if you'd told Madame Schakael all about it the other night when
she caught you in Number 40, do you suppose she would have punished you
so harshly?"

"I--I couldn't tell on them," murmured Nancy, trying to hide her bundle.

"No. But what good did it do to try and save girls like Montgomery? They
blame you, just the same."

Nancy nodded, but said nothing.

"But _I_ know that you didn't tell on them; and so does Jennie Bruce.
Madame Schakael learned the names of the culprits by going from door to
door and finding out who were absent from their rooms. S