"But the other two, Miss Durand—the other two? This grows interesting."
"Well, you see," Alwynne expanded, "I had an awful row with Miss Vigers—and she's sure to tell Miss Marsham. I suppose I was rude, but she did make me so mad. I don't see that it was her business to come and slang me before my class."
"My class," corrected Clare.
"I wouldn't have minded you," said Alwynne, lifting ingenuous eyes.
"I'm flattered," murmured Clare.
"Well—you would have understood," said Alwynne with conviction. "But Miss Vigers——I ask you, Miss Hartill, what would be the use of talking about Napoleon to Miss Vigers?"
"I give it up," said Clare promptly.
"There you are!" Alwynne waved her hand triumphantly.
"But, excuse me"—Clare was elaborately respectful—"has Napoleon any traceable connection with the kidnapping of my class?"
"Oh, I thought I explained." Alwynne plunged into her story. "You see, I was giving them Elocution—they're learning the Incident in the French Camp—you know?"