From the moment Eleanor Allen entered Leslie Manor, she had been Petty Gaylord's slave, and a more complete "crush" never was known. Flowers, candy, books, and what not were lavished upon her adored one. Everything that Petty would accept, and since Petty's discrimination was not of the nicest order all proved fish which fell into her net. Eleanor lived in the atmosphere of Petty's thrilling romance until she almost felt it to be her own. She had seen the lost letter flutter to the schoolroom floor, and had also seen Beverly pick it up. Her first impulse was to run and tell Petty, but had no opportunity to do so in the classroom. Then she decided to effect its rescue herself, and while the others were at luncheon had slipped into Beverly's room and extracted the note from her history. She never dreamed that Beverly meant to return it to Petty and did not know that she had gone to her the following morning to explain its loss as well as she was able. Eleanor intended to give Petty the note at once, but when circumstances had prevented her from doing so for several hours, she made up her mind to keep it in her own possession in order to use it to Beverly's undoing. Just how this was to be compassed she had no very clear idea, and _now_ had come a fine opening. She hated Beverly because she had laughed at Petty's love affair, and ignored completely the one who worshipped at Petty's shrine. The scene in Professor Sautelle's room had nearly thrown Beverly into hysterics, and Eleanor had also witnessed that. Oh, she had a long score against Beverly Ashby. That evening as Miss Woodhull sat by her study table reading a tap came upon her door and Eleanor entered at the word "Come." Miss Woodhull was not over-pleased at being interrupted in the midst of a thrilling article on the Suffrage question and the militant doings of her wronged sisters in England. "Well?" she queried crisply. "I would like to speak to you, Miss Woodhull." "Very well, speak," was the terse reply. This was somewhat disconcerting. Eleanor coughed. "Will you be good enough to state your errand without further peroration. I do not relish being interrupted in my reading." "I--I--thought I ought to tell you,--to show you--I mean you ought to see this note which I found," and Eleanor crossed the room to Miss Woodhull's side, the note held toward her. She took it, asking as she did so: "Why come to me about so trivial a matter? What is it? Where did you find it?" "I didn't think it trivial and that is why I came right to you," Eleanor replied, ignoring the embarrassing questions. Miss Woodhull opened the note. The first line acted like a galvanic shock. She sat up rigid as a lamp post. The words were "Darling Little Sweetheart:--" Then she read on: