"But I am not sure who it was."
"Have you an idea?"
"I could only guess from the outline of her figure," replied Anne. "And it wouldn't be fair to tell her name unless I had seen her plainly. It might have been some one else."
Anne had a suspicion that something had happened, and that Miss Thompson had brought her here to find out what she knew. But she never dreamed that she herself was under suspicion.
One thing had struck Miss Thompson very forcibly. Miss Leece had known all along that Anne was on the staircase at the very moment the other person was slamming the door in their faces. And yet Miss Leece was determined to condemn Anne to the faculty that very night. She had said so in as many words, in defiance of the principal's arguments against such a course.
"Well, good night, my child," she said at last, giving Anne a motherly kiss. "You have done a good winter's work and I am proud of you."
Anne hurried away, clutching the letter in her hand. She wondered if Miss Thompson had read it, and somehow she didn't mind so much after all. The principal seemed to her the very embodiment of all that was good and kind.
Miss Thompson was destined to have several callers that afternoon. In a few moments Grace hurried in, breathless and excited.
"Look at that, Miss Thompson," cried the girl, thrusting a handkerchief into her hand. "Look at it and smell it."
"Well," replied the principal, "I've seen it before and smelled it before, too. Only you've had it washed and ironed, haven't you!"