to discover
Eleanor. She hesitated, looked down, then up with appealing eyes. She
twisted her fingers together and untwisted them. She shifted from one
foot to the other, all of which was maddeningly irritating to Miss
Woodhull.

"This is no time for hesitation,--speak!"

"This afternoon," whispered Eleanor.

"Sit in that chair and tell me everything without further circumlocution."
The tone was final.

With appropriate hesitancy the events of the afternoon were graphically
pictured for the Empress. When they were completely drawn she said with
the grimness of Fate: "You may go, but remember, not one word to your
companions." A most superfluous admonition, for Eleanor was nearly
petrified with fear as it was. She retreated to her room with all
possible speed and her room-mate wondered what had taken place to make
her look so pale, but refrained from asking questions. Eleanor and her
room-mate were not entirely congenial.

It was close to nine-thirty when she entered her room which was on the
floor above Beverly's. Down in hospitable Suite 10 the social spirit was
rampant. The Basket-ball victory was being celebrated by a spread. Light
bell did not ring until ten Saturday nights. Beverly was in the act of
biting into a chocolate eclair when Miss Stetson came to the door.
Beverly was sitting back to it and supposed it was one of her companions.

As all will concede, an eclair is, to say the least, an uncertain
quantity. Even upon a plate and carefully manipulated with a fork, it is
given to erratic performances. When held between a thumb and forefinger,
and _bitten_ into, its possibilities are beyond conjecture. Miss Stetson
appeared at a most inopportune moment (she usually did) and each girl
rose to her feet, Beverly under the circumstances being the last to do so
because she had no idea that Miss Stetson was anywhere near No. 10. Her
tardy uprising brought about the inevitable result. Her teeth came
together upon her eclair and the filling escaped its bounds, landing in
many places that it should not have landed. When Miss Stetson had removed
about a tablespoonful of cream filling from her bosom, she said icily:
"Miss Ashby, you are to report at Miss Woodhull's study at once," and
utterly ignored Beverly's apologies.

"Report at Miss Woodhull's office at nine-thirty at night?"

Consternation fell upon the revellers. The hair had snapped and Damocles'
sword had certainly fallen.