Her indifference fell away a trifle, however, as she and Marian were presently ushered into Mrs. Weatherbee's room by a most stony-faced matron. Instead of finding there three girls, a disturbing fourth was present. Decidedly disturbing to Marian's peace of mind.
At sight of Elsie Noble, who sat stolidly beside Norma on the davenport, Marian's face darkened. Walking straight over to her cousin, she asked furiously:
"Where were you this evening?"
"That will do, Miss Seaton." Mrs. Weatherbee now took command of the situation. "Kindly sit down and allow me to manage this affair."
With a baleful glance at Elsie, Marian sullenly obeyed the stern voice.
"It is not necessary to go into the subject of why you are here," began the matron, addressing the silent group of girls. "I will proceed at once to business. I shall first read you a portion of a letter from Edith Allison, formerly Edith Hammond."
Taking up an open letter from a pile of papers that lay on a small table beside her, she read aloud:
Dear Mrs. Weatherbee:
"What a shame that such an unfortunate misunderstanding should have arisen over that unlucky white lace gown of mine. It was really a ridiculous mistake all around. Jane's explanation, of course, convinced you of that. It would never have happened if Judy's gown and mine had not been so nearly alike. We all had a good laugh over it, when Jane finally straightened out the tangle.
"I can't understand Miss Seaton's not knowing about Judy's absent-mindedness. It was the joke of the freshman class last year. She figured prominently in the grind book. I am extremely indignant to hear that her honesty has ever been doubted. She is one of the finest, most honorable girls I have ever known. I am very glad you wrote me about this."