"I hardly know what to believe," she said curtly. "Your denial of the authorship of this letter seems sincere. I should naturally prefer to believe that you did not write it."
"I give you my word of honor as a Wellington girl that I did not," Jane answered impressively. "I cannot blame you for resenting it. It is most discourteous. I should be sorry to believe myself capable of such rudeness."
"I will accept your statement," Mrs. Weatherbee stiffly conceded. "However, the fact remains that someone wrote and mailed this letter to me. There is but one inference to be drawn from it."
She paused and stared hard at Jane.
Without replying, Jane again perused the fateful letter. As she finished a second reading of it, a bitter smile dawned upon her mobile lips.
"Yes," she said heavily. "There is just one inference to be drawn from it—spite work. I had no idea that it would be carried to this length, though."
"Then you suspect a particular person as having written it?" sharply inquired the matron.
"I do," came the steady response. "I know of but one, perhaps two persons, who might have done so. I am fairly sure that it lies between the two."
"It naturally follows then that the person or persons you suspect are students at Wellington," commented the matron. "This is a matter that would scarcely concern outsiders. More, we may go further and narrow the circle down to Madison Hall."
Jane received this pointed surmise in absolute silence.