"Why, that's Chrissie!" she said to herself. "What in the name of thunder is she doing slinking behind the shrubs? Oh, I know! Good old girl! She's coming to cheer me up, and, of course, doesn't want Norty or anyone to catch her. What a sport she is!" Chrissie had disappeared, probably into the vestibule door, but Marjorie judged that she would be coming upstairs directly, and in a spirit of fun crouched down in a corner and hid behind the desks. As she had expected, the door opened a moment later, and her chum peeped inside, took a hasty glance round the room, and went away. That she should go without searching for and finding her friend was not at all what Marjorie had calculated upon. She sprang up hastily and followed, but by the time she had reached the door Chrissie had disappeared. Marjorie walked a little way along the corridor. She was disappointed, and felt decidedly bored with life. She longed for something--anything--to break the monotony of copying out poetry. Her eyes fell upon a staircase at her left. Now on the school plan these stairs were marked "out of bounds", and to mount them was a breach of rules. They led to a glass observatory, which formed a kind of tower over the main building of the College. A number of theatrical properties were stored here--screens, and drop scenes, and boxes full of costumes. By special leave the prefects came up to fetch anything that was needed for acting, but to the ordinary school it was forbidden ground. Marjorie stopped and thought. She had always longed to explore the theatrical boxes. Everybody was out at hockey, and there was not a soul to see her and report her. The temptation was too great; she succumbed, and next moment was running up the stairs, all agog with the spirit of adventure. The door of the Observatory was open. It was not a remarkably large room, and was fairly well filled with the various stage properties. Large windows occupied the four sides, and the roof was a glass dome. Marjorie peeped about, opened some of the boxes and examined the dresses, and inspected a variety of odd objects, such as pasteboard crowns, fairies' wings, sceptres, wands, and swords. She was just about to try on a green-velvet Rumanian bodice when she turned in alarm. Steps were heard coming up the staircase towards the Observatory. In an instant Marjorie shut the box and slipped behind one of the screens. She was only just in time, for the next moment Miss Norton entered the room. Through a small rent in the oilcloth which covered the screen Marjorie could see her plainly. She went to the window which faced the sea and gazed out long and earnestly. Then she opened one of the theatrical boxes, put something inside, and shut it again. One more look through the window and she left the room. The sound of her retreating footsteps died down the stairs.