The following week the Easter recess began. During that recess Miss Woodhull went to a famous Sanitarium in the state in order to "Restore her over-taxed nerves." She did not know that the physician in charge was one of Admiral Seldon's oldest friends. He strongly advised against resuming her duties after the Easter recess, and urged her to discontinue all work (?) for at least a year, and to seek an entire change of scene. She followed his advice so far as change of scene was concerned, but her idea of a complete rest was an immediate and very active affiliation with her suffering sisters in a crusade for their "rights," and the overthrow of the oppression of the sterner sex. She sailed for England, and once in London became one of the most rampant of the wronged ones. Meanwhile the school was being conducted by Miss Baylis, who for five blissful weeks reigned supreme, while "hope" hinted a permanent one. But, alas! nothing is so delusive as human hope. That city across the sea settled Miss Baylis' plans, and Miss Woodhull's future. That lady had found her true place among England's "gentlewomen"(?), though she had utterly failed to do so among Virginia's. Over there she could chuck books at the heads of dignified judges and glory in seeing the old gentlemen dodge. She could heave her shoes at the Chancellor, and shout and yell with her wronged sisters. She could smash windows, blow up people's houses, arrange and cavort with the maddest of her feminine friends, and give a glorious vent to all the long pent-up belligerence in her makeup, to the everlasting humiliation, mortification, shame and horror of the GENTLEWOMEN of her own land. Exit Miss Woodhull. And her substitute? Her triumph was short lived. Leslie Manor was sold in May. Agents in Richmond conducted the sale. No one knew the purchaser, but during the following month workmen appeared as by magic and labored like gnomes all day, and almost all night too. New buildings were erected, all sorts of strange changes made in the old ones. The place assumed huge proportions. What could it all mean? In August the cat popped out of the bag. Dr. and Mrs. Kilton moved in. A new and imposing sign appeared upon the handsome iron grill-work of the entrance gate, the gold letters reading: "The Wilder-Kilton Co-Educational Academy!" Wilder had been Mrs. Kilton's maiden name. Old Kilton Hall, long since out-grown, became the home farm, and a sort of retreat for any pupils who were ailing or in need of a complete rest. The school was to be opened September thirtieth, under an entirely new auspices, and certainly under very new conditions. It was a daring venture, a complete innovation, but Dr. and Mrs. Kilton were sanguine of success. Whether their dreams were realized or not must be told in "A Dixie Girl Co-Ed." And down in Woodbine?