"Jemima, no!" Betty exclaimed, without thinking. "That is, I beg your pardon, Miss Hale, but I don't think I do. You see I'd begin to wonder about all my answers and that would only make things worse," she said, desperately.
"Very well; you may leave the room," Miss Hale replied, with a resigned sigh that plunged Betty into the deepest gloom.
She wandered over to Senior Alley. It was deserted. The rest of her classmates were still in the study hall. She found Angela's history book on her bed and started to study, but gave it up in despair. They had covered over half of a thick book that year and there was no way of knowing what part to re-study.
"I'd be sure to learn all the dates that weren't asked for," she said, aloud, and closed the book.
She thought of the possible Juniors who might be free. She had passed Fanny on her way out of the study hall—she remembered the big ink spot that she had on one cheek. Suddenly she thought of Maud.
"I'll bet she's finished her exam, if she had one," she laughed to herself, for Maud's utter disregard of lessons that did not interest her was a much-discussed topic.
She went upstairs to the Sophomore corridor, expecting to find it almost as deserted as her own, but, instead, she found five of the teachers talking excitedly in the hall.
Mrs. Baird had her hand on the knob of Maud's door. Betty was a little confused at such a strange gathering.
"Excuse me," she said, hastily, and turned to go.
There was no need to explain that something was wrong—the whole atmosphere of the corridor was charged with mystery.