"Come!" cried Susan quickly, and sped upstairs towards the classroom, while Dreda followed hard in her wake, leaving the other girls to discuss the situation round the fire. The universal impression was that Dreda had stowed away the book in some hiding-place, and had promptly forgotten all about it. She was always doing it; never a day arrived but she went about inquiring in melancholy accents if anyone had seen her indiarubber, her penknife, her keys, her gloves. She was always leaving things about, and, upon suddenly discovering their presence, popping them into impromptu hiding-places to save running upstairs-- behind a photograph, in an empty flower-pot, beneath a mat or cushion, anywhere and everywhere, as circumstances prompted. Nothing was certain but that nine times out of ten she would forget the whole incident, and would have no better clue to help her in her search after the missing article than that she had put it "somewhere!" "Poor old Dreda!" said Barbara sympathetically. "Hard lines, when she has worked so hard! The Duck will be down upon her like a ton of bricks. She loathes untidiness. Poor old Dreda--she'll get a rowing instead of praise. It's tragic when you think of that fine cover, and all the beautiful black letters!" "She's been an awful bore. It will do her good to be taken down a bit." "Poor Dreda all the same. Things that do you good are so _very_ disagreeable. I like her enthusiasm, when it doesn't interfere with me! And she's a real good sort. A bore at times, but a good little meaner." "It's no use meaning, if you don't perform, where The Duck is concerned. I wouldn't be in her shoes." Meanwhile Dreda had turned out the contents of her desk for a second time, while Susan stood anxiously looking on. When the last paper had fluttered to the ground, the two girls faced one another in eloquent silence. "It isn't there," said Susan at last. "There must be some mistake. Think, dear! Are you _quite_ sure that you put it here, and nowhere else? What did you do after you finished binding the papers? Where did you go? Think of everything you did." "But I did nothing!" cried Dreda miserably. "I only dressed and went down to supper. I never took it out of this room at all--I'm certain, positive--as certain as I'm alive!" "But we could look. It is worth while looking. We must find it!" But at this very moment the door of Miss Drake's room opened, and a quick voice called out a summons. "Dreda! I am waiting. Kindly come at once." The colour ebbed still further from Dreda's cheeks, her eyes grew wide and tragic, she extended her hands towards Susan, as if mutely appealing for help, and felt them clasped with a strong protecting pressure. "You must go, but I'll search. I'm a good looker, you know. Poor darling! It _is_ hard, but I'll help--I _will_ help." Then Etheldreda the Ready threw her arms round her friend's neck and cried brokenly: