on him,
though Miss Harris, the ordinary drawing mistress, might possibly have
recognized Gipsy's dress. One or two of her Form mates stared at her
curiously, but the greater number were too much preoccupied with
answering "present" to their names, and filing away to their various
classes, to pay any particular attention to her. The girls at the
painting lesson, with the exception of Fiona Campbell, were all Seniors.
If they realized any difference in Meg's appearance, there was no
opportunity either for them to make comments or for her to give
explanations. I am afraid the study in oil colours of carnations, upon
which she was engaged, did not make much progress that afternoon, for
her thoughts were entirely about Gipsy, wondering how far she had got
upon her travels, and whether Miss Poppleton had yet discovered her
absence.

Directly the four o'clock bell rang and the class was released, Meg,
leaving the other girls leisurely putting away their tubes of paints and
cleaning their palettes, scrambled her possessions together anyhow, and
bolted from the room before she could be questioned. Going boldly to the
boarders' cupboard in the hall, she purloined Gipsy's hat, and, without
waiting even to tell her story to Hetty and Dilys, departed from the
premises with all possible speed.

She had come to school that day on her bicycle, and fetching it hastily
from the shed where all the machines were stored, she rode away in the
direction of Greyfield. There was something slightly wrong with one of
her pedals, and her father had told her that morning that she had better
have it mended at once, so she intended to take the cycle to the depot
where it had been bought, and let it be thoroughly overhauled before she
returned home. The assistant at the shop promised to have the repairs
finished in about half an hour, and Meg therefore strolled into the
town, to wait with what patience she could muster. She walked up
Corporation Street and round by the Town Hall, peeped into the Parish
Church and the Free Library, then finding herself close to the railway
station, decided to go and buy a copy of _Home Chat_ or _Tit Bits_ at
the bookstall.

"Want a ticket, Miss?" asked a porter, as she passed the booking-office
near the entrance.

"No, thank you; I'm only going to get a paper," replied Meg, walking
briskly on.

She noticed that the man looked at her keenly, and said something to
another official. Immediately afterwards an inspe