"I'm going," whispered Louise to Rudolph, "but _don't_ let the boys catch you! Miss Barclay has gone--and--and--_don't_ let them catch you, Rudolph!" The next moment she glided up the dark stairway and came out into the big hall. Jimmie Fisher was emerging from the third-grade cloaking-room with his hat and books. "Father's leaving for France with a hospital unit," he explained hurriedly, "and mother sent for me to tell him good-by." Then he darted away. Miss Barclay gone! And Jimmie gone! Had God himself deserted the third grade? * * * * * When Louise crept back into the schoolroom--ahead of Tinsie Willis, who was still searching for her--she found things very troublous indeed. The children were naughty and restless, and the substitute was--a substitute! The whole class had been told to stay in, and Louise was promptly included in the sentence as soon as her tardy little face appeared in the doorway. But she did not cry or fling herself about, for she knew she had remained out of the room overtime. Of course it had been for a high purpose, but that she could not explain, so she merely assented courteously and slipped into her seat. Her grandfather and his father's father had laid down their lives for the right--if she did not succeed in living through that dreadful half-hour of punishment, she would be but another of her race to die for a high cause. Matters grew worse, and now the wind and the sky took a hand. The great trees outside began to battle fiercely together, and the sky frowned, darker and darker. Suddenly Louise--looking out of the window--saw Perkins, the janitor, hauling down the flag! Was the Houston Street School surrendering to the Germans? For one unworthy moment Louise suspected Rudolph Kreisler again. But she instantly afterward reminded herself that he had told her with his own lips he wished to be American. Then the heavens opened and the floods came. It was a terrible, terrible afternoon, but children and substitute managed somehow to live through it, and after so long a time the gong sounded for the dismissal of school. The children of the other grades marched out. Tramp--tramp--it sounded terribly like a host in retreat! Then quiet!--with the third-graders sitting silent in their seats, trying to calculate how many thousand years it would take for that long clock-hand to move half-way round the dial again. Louise began wondering at just what point Rudolph Kreisler would steal out of his hiding and break for home. The rain had stopped, and she hoped and believed that the little German would make good his escape before the third grade had finished serving sentence. Suddenly Luke, raising his hand, asked of the substitute: "May I speak to Billy Hastings on business?" The substitute was writing something and assented without looking up. Louise could not help hearing the hoarsely whispered "business."