"No--I hardly think so. She's pretty lenient to the 'Lambs.' We help support her pet charity. She's terribly interested in settlement work. Anyway, I don't believe she half minds a little innocent fun; but, of course, she couldn't sanction it openly." Annabel stifled a yawn. "I'm so sleepy I don't know how I'm ever going to get through this day. I scarcely slept a wink all night. I got to worrying about that candle we left burning in the sky parlor; and finally, after numerous and painful visions of the building burning down at my own personal expense, I got up, felt my way along those dark halls, and put it out." "You went back alone!" Blue Bonnet gasped. "I did. I think myself I deserve a medal--don't you?" "You deserve several, Annabel. It was too plucky for anything. Why didn't Ruth go with you?" "Oh, Ruth was asleep. It seemed a pity to wake her. I didn't mind much. I never was afraid of the dark." * * * * * It was late in the afternoon that Sue Hemphill, coming into her room, found the following note pinned to her pincushion with her best hatpin: "DEAR OLD ROOMY: "Please forgive me for being such a silly goose last night. I couldn't help it--truly I couldn't, Sue. I have always gotten perfectly panicky over those little beasts ever since I can remember. I can't bear to have you angry with me. I know I feel worse than you do about it, for I must have seemed such an awful fool. It was all the worse because I had boasted about my courage the other day. I never will again. I am going to see if Miss North will let me take Mrs. White and the 'Lambs' to see Maude Adams next Saturday afternoon--my treat. I have a birthday check coming and I'd love to spend it that way. "Your loving pal, "WEE." "Dear old Wee," Sue said, as she read the note through twice and then carefully pinned it in her memory book. "She's got the biggest heart. Nobody could stay angry at her two minutes--I can't anyway. And," she added, philosophically, "I suppose if she's afraid of mice, she's _afraid_--and that's all there is to it." CHAPTER XIII SUNDAY Little has been said about the living-room at Miss North's; one of the pleasantest places in the building. The approach to it was by the way of a rather unusual stairway, and this stairway had a peculiar significance in the school life. It parted on a landing just before it reached the living and dining-room floor, dividing into two separate avenues. One side was claimed by the Seniors; the other by the Juniors. A Senior never thought of coming down the Junior side; and the Juniors were quite as particular. Each class had its own "stair song" and on festive occasions the stairs played an important part. The living-room was just across the hall from the dining-room; and when classes entertained--as they did often--the rooms were thrown open and used as one.