“I might jest as well walk down that way and see if things air all right.” How loud her steps sounded on the bare corridor floor. Gincy paused before trying the door of Number 16. She did hope that Lalla and Kizzie had left it locked. But no, here was the key, and on the outside, too. “I call thet plumb shiftlessness,” she told herself disgustedly. The girls certainly needed a lesson. Gincy stuck her head in, carefully surveyed the room, and then locked the door, slipping the key into her pocket. Let them go to Miss Howard when they wanted to get in. She came back to her own room and sat down by the window. In a few minutes the evening song, in one harmonious chorus, was wafted to her ears, then snatches of it floated up the stairs as the girls returned to their rooms. Some one tapped lightly, then turned the knob, and peered in. It was Mallie Green, and Gincy fancied she looked surprised to see her. “Howdy! I was passing and I thought—I’d see—why—you wan’t at dinner.” Mallie blurted it out in her usual explosive fashion, her gaze shifting evasively. “I didn’t feel to want any; my ear aches,” answered Gincy with a sudden accession of coolness toward the small, shrinking figure. She had been a target for Nancy Ping’s ready wit many a time, but to-day Mallie seemed far less likable. Every minute her suspicions grew stronger. Why was Mallie poking into people’s rooms and pretending—Gincy felt it to be mere pretending—to be friends? It was more than mere prankishness to put wet towels on a pile of freshly-ironed clothes, it was malicious, especially as the girls were all trying to economize as much as possible. A few minutes later Gincy presented the key of Number 16 to Miss Howard. “They haven’t asked for the master key,” said the latter, “so they must be downstairs in the parlour. Sometimes they don’t come up until the study bell rings.” “Let’s go back and see if there is any one hanging around the door,” suggested Gincy. To their astonishment they found Lalla and Kizzie entertaining callers. Gincy stood for a moment dumfounded, then dragged Miss Howard to a quiet corner of the hall. “I know,” she whispered, “some one left that key in the door. They heard me coming and didn’t have time to get it out. We’ll keep hit, then I’d like to see them get in.” “Do you really think it’s Mallie?” asked Miss Howard soberly. “I can’t see any reason for her doing it.” “Nor I, only the Greens and Ponders never did get on back yonder, and Lalla’s always ahead of Mallie—she’s a year younger, too.” Miss Howard stopped suddenly, she had started back to her room. “No, Gincy, it wasn’t Mallie; she went into the dining-room ahead of me this evening and gave out a notice for the basket ball team. I remember now. Besides, she and Nancy Jane both wipe dishes and are never upstairs until a half-hour after meal time.”