"And that's my story, girls. After all, you see, Alice wasn't the desperately wicked character we thought her at first. Certainly she had some funny ideas in her head at one time, but I think she had pretty well got rid of them before she had been here a couple of months. As for the telegram business, the Principal will make a short public announcement at prayers to-morrow to put the responsibility of the dark deed on the real culprit. Thank goodness, we've no girls like that at St. Etheldreda's."
The Fifth looked at each other, much impressed.
"Really, perhaps we weren't as nice to Monica as we might have been," murmured Glenda pensively, as if the thought had just occurred to her.
"Take my advice," said Allison, "and treat her like any other ordinary schoolgirl, and you'll find she'll soon be one."
Irene's cheeks were burning—and it wasn't the fire, though she was quite close to it.
"Anyway," she burst out with explosive suddenness, "this'll be a lesson to me never to go prying into other people's correspondence again."
"To think," said Nat sadly, "that Monica believed she was risking her life to save a clumsy elephant like me, and I've never even said thank'ee for it."
"Plenty of time yet, Nat," said Allison cheerfully. "Well, I mustn't linger any longer. Virgil calls me. Thanks for listening so patiently. Good-bye, everybody."
"Good-bye, Allison," came in an answering chorus.
"Isn't Allison a brick?" said Ida impulsively as the door closed behind the Head Girl. "She might have pointed out what a mean, self-opinionated lot we've been—all, that is, except Nat—but she never said a word. As for Nat, I guess she's the only one of us who's 'put in' much kindness or consideration this term. You remember what Miss Julian said on first day?"