"The team will be here before long," added Glenda. "No sense in going back. We may as well wait at the station."
The three girls paced up and down the platform, talking eagerly.
"I was in such an awful hurry and so worried, I didn't think of anything but the fact that mother was ill and I must catch this next train at all costs," Allison confessed. "But as I was trying to swallow a mouthful of food and nearly choking in the attempt, it did cross my mind to wonder why dad didn't 'phone. I put it down to the 'phone being out of order. It was, the last time I was home. Fortunately Prinny thought of it."
"Yes, but not until we put it into her head to suspect the genuineness of the telegram," said Glenda.
"What do you mean? What made you suspect it wasn't genuine? I can't think who on earth played such a mean trick. It gave me a pretty bad half-hour, I can tell you."
"Wasn't it a beastly, low-down thing to do!" cried Glenda vehemently. "It was Irene who found it out. I don't quite know how—something about a letter she saw, a letter written to Monica Carr by one of the Fairhurst Priory girls. It's that girl Monica Carr who is at the bottom of this, of course. There'll always be trouble in the school as long as she's allowed to stay here."
Allison looked greatly disturbed. "I hope we are mistaken in thinking so. I should hate to think one of our own girls was responsible for this."
"Not much room for a mistake. And we can't call Monica Carr one of our own girls exactly. She's never fitted in with the rest of us."
"What do you think, Nat?" asked Allison, for Nat had not yet spoken. "I thought you and Monica were getting on pretty well together lately."
"So we were," replied Nat unhappily. "I was beginning to fancy she might perhaps be quite a jolly little soul when she forgot her queer moods and tantrums. Of course, I don't know anything about this. She's never mentioned it to me. But you can't exactly account for what she's going to do next."