All day long Electra Sanderson had been strangely silent. At eight o'clock she marched down to Miss Woodhull's study, rapped upon the door, and was bidden enter. That lady sat with her hand upon the telephone receiver, about to remove it. She now fully realized that Admiral Seldon must be communicated with at once. She must face the music this time. She almost hailed Electra with joy as the source of a brief respite. Electra crossed the room, rested one hand upon the corner of Miss Woodhull's desk, plucked up her courage and plunged in head first: "You scolded Beverly Ashby for receivin' a letter she didn't _get_. It wasn't hers at all. It was Petty Gaylord's. I saw her receive it. I don't want to tell tales, but I _wont_ have Beverly blamed for something she never done--_did_. She's always been nice and polite to me and Petty aint been. Eleanor Allen _stole_ that letter and brought it down here to you just to get Beverly into trouble. I _saw_ her do it. She took it right out of Beverly's history book. Petty dropped it in history class and never knew what had become of it. The next morning Beverly came into our room and told Petty that she had picked it up to return it to her but when she opened her book to get it it was gone, but Petty wouldn't believe her and said awful things to her till Beverly just looked at her the way she _can_ look when she _despises_ people (well Miss Woodhull knew that look) and went out of the room. But Eleanor had that letter all the time, 'cause I saw her sneak into Beverly's room and snitch it. I don't know what she wanted with it, but after I saw her take it I watched her every single minute. I thought she would give it to Petty, of course, they're so stuck on each other, but she didn't. She just kept and kept it for some mucker trick, and when I saw her comin' down to your study last night I knew just as well as anything what she was up to. She hates Beverly just because she won't have anything to do with her and laughs at Petty and her mash. Petty's just dead in love with that feller at Annapolis. Now if you don't believe what I've told you you can just send for both of them and ask them yourself. I don't care a cent what you do for I'm going to leave this hateful school tomorrow and you can't stop me. And I'll tell dad all about this fracas too. I hate you and everything in the school--so there, now!" and with this final explosion Eleanor turned and fled from the room. Erin Go Bra! If Eleanor's story had not collapsed Miss Woodhull her English certainly would have compassed that result. She fell back upon her chair panting. Just then her phone rang: BOMB No. 2.