"That is no doubt true, Mr. Winthrop; but it is not altogether to the point. Miss Ashe has been willful and disobedient in this matter. She has shown an absolute disregard of rules—a lack of faith in my word. I promised her this morning that Miss Judson should have every attention and care, and that Miss Clyde should be notified at the proper time. You will understand, of course, Mr. Winthrop, that if each parent who has a daughter in this institution were to be notified the moment that child becomes indisposed, it would cause unnecessary alarm, as well as expense. It is a very common thing, at the beginning of the year, to have the Infirmary half full of girls who are suffering from colds, change of climate, homesickness; minor ills, insignificant and trivial. It is our habit to call our physician, Doctor Giles, immediately. We rely implicitly upon his judgment. Perhaps you may know of Doctor Giles? He has something of a reputation in the city."
"Yes," Mr. Winthrop said, "I know him very well indeed; in fact he is my physician—and friend."
Miss North cast a quick look in Blue Bonnet's direction.
"Then you know something of his skill," she said. "He has just left here—his second visit to-day. He finds Miss Judson much better, absolutely without temperature—in fact, quite normal. Her illness, superinduced by homesickness, has at no time been alarming. She has a bilious cold—always disagreeable—and some difficulty in adjusting herself to this climate after the fresh air of the prairie. This, I believe, is the history of the case. You see how simple it is—scarcely sufficient to cause this—teapot tempest!"
As Miss North spoke a change came over Blue Bonnet's countenance. She was gifted as few people are in this world, in that she had the ability to see herself as others saw her. At the present moment the vision was anything but pleasing or gratifying. Miss North's argument, clear and logical, spoke straight to her conscience. She realized all at once that she had been meddlesome and officious, and she longed to make amends.
There was silence for a full minute. Mr. Winthrop had no further defence in favor of Blue Bonnet—that was evident.
Miss North waited for him to speak. He cleared his throat audibly and opened his lips; but, before the words came, Blue Bonnet had leaned forward to the very edge of her chair and addressed Miss North.
"I see your point—perfectly—now," she said. "I didn't this morning. I'm terribly sorry that I've caused you all this annoyance. I reckon it was because—" she stopped, unwilling to allow herself the slightest loophole of escape through an explanation. "There is no excuse for me at all. I apologize, Miss North, and I'm willing to take my punishment—anything you think right—only I hope—it won't be expulsion. Grandmother could never stand that. It would most kill her!"
There was a grave, old-fashioned dignity about the way Blue Bonnet acknowledged her error. It appealed to Miss North. She was so frank, so evidently sincere, that almost without an instant's hesitation Miss North replied:
"I accept your apology, Miss Ashe. We try never to expel for mistakes—unless they are serious enough to be contaminating in influence. As to a punishment—we will discuss that later. You may come here—to my office, for a few minutes after study hour this evening."