"And that hateful reporter! Wait until she comes around here again snooping for news!" contributed Dorothy Blyden.
"Yes, just wait!" vociferated Ted Guthrie.
"At any rate," ordered Judith. "We must see to it that every Bugle is cornered on the campus. Not a line of this must by any chance come under Helen's eyes."
"We will raid every house and sweep up every path," volunteered Drusilla. "I love Helen Powderly and I am going to see that she has fair play."
"Bravo!" chorused the girls, now scattering at the call of the gong sounding the one thirty session.
Still one more scene, important to our story, is being enacted at Wellington. Helen, in her solitary room, is quivering with suppressed excitement. She has had a letter from Stanislaus--her friend and her protector. He has, at last, found she is alive, and at Wellington College. And his letter came to the girl, who is truly in hiding, through their mutual friend, Alice Mahon, a social service worker of New York City.
"Dear, dear friend!" sighed Helen happily. "How very soon I may tell my dear Jane and Judith who you are! Very soon I may throw off my cloak of disguise. I, Helka Podonsky, so long in the servitude of dishonest captors."
Once more she read the brief note penned in Polish. How much those few precious words meant to her!
"Just a little while more," she sighed, folding the note as if it might escape from her holding. "Just until Stanislaus comes."
And that afternoon Helen Powderly appeared at her class, smiling and happy, all unconscious of the Bugle and its baneful story.