"Mark my words, Elinor Kendall," she said impressively. "Some one is at the bottom of this, and I have my suspicions, too, who that someone is. I'm not going to tell, for you girls always laugh at me, but I'm going to prove it to you before that committee meets that you're the victim of a conspiracy."
The relish with which Judith pronounced these ominous words made Elinor smile, but Patricia felt only aggravation at what she considered airs on Judith's part.
"Stuff and nonsense, Judy!" she said, impatiently. "You've been soaking your brain in fiction till you can't see straight. Don't you meddle with Elinor's affairs unless she gives you permission. You'll only make her ridiculous."
Judith, ignoring Patricia's pungent remarks, turned her calm eyes inquiringly to Elinor.
"You don't mind if I can help prove that someone else was the deceiver, do you, Elinor?" she asked with such seriousness that Elinor rippled with enjoyment:
"Bless your heart, kitten, make yourself as happy as you please with my affairs; only, I beseech of you, do it quietly and with as little martial music as possible."
Judith pulled herself free from Elinor's circling arms and made for the door, pausing on the threshold.
"As if I'd publish it on the housetops!" she cried in infinite disdain. "It's plain you aren't much up in detective stories."
After their laughter at her dramatic disappearance had died down, they sat quietly in the twilight watching the lamps flicker into life across the park, each one busy with her own thoughts.
"Do you know, Miss Pat," said Elinor, breaking a long silence "that I don't like Doris Leighton any more. It isn't because she got the prize—you know me better than to think that—but I've been noticing her more closely recently and I don't think she rings true."