"Young women, are you not aware that this is a sacred spot, devoted for generations past to the Black Monks of Asia, whose home this building was before it became a roadhouse for stage coaches? Never invade this spot again with your hilarity. And now we will permit you to go, marching out single file, without looking back. But first, through your leader you must give your word never to mention this meeting to anyone. If you refuse this promise we shall punish you as only the Black Monks of Asia know how to punish persons who have offended the order. The leader will please step forward." There was a moment's whispered conversation among the freshmen. Then Grace, urged by her friends, said: "We promise." "Now march out, single file, as agreed," resumed the Black Monk of Asia, his voice trembling a little with suppressed emotion of some sort. The girls started to move out of the enclosure single file, Grace leading the procession, when a gust of wind blew the robe of the leading monk apart, disclosing a navy blue serge walking-skirt. Grace's quick eye caught sight of the skirt at once, and breaking from the line, she charged straight into the group of black monks, crying: "Sophomores! Sophomores!" The other girls ran after her, screaming at the tops of their voices; and there might have been almost a free fight between the two classes had not the Black Monks of Asia scattered in every direction, running at utmost speed. "Come on back, girls," cried Grace in a disgusted tone. She had chased a monk half-way across the orchard; then stopped to wonder what she would do if she caught the tall, black-robed individual who had indecorously caught up her skirts and was flying well ahead over the rough ground. One by one the plebes returned to their meeting place. "Well, that was a sell!" uttered Nora disgustedly. "How shall we ever manage to get even with those mean sophomores!" "If we don't," exclaimed Grace, "we shall never hear the last of it in Oakdale." "But who gave us away?" demanded Jessica. "Did anyone drop a hint to the sophomores of our secret meeting place?" "I didn't," said one girl after another. "Perhaps they followed us," suggested Marian Barber. "No one followed me," asserted Grace. "I was careful to look behind and see." "Nor me." "Nor me," exclaimed several of her classmates. "No," said Nora. "Somebody must have overheard and given the secret away." "Not Mi----" but Grace stopped before she had finished the name. The girls looked at each other. Could Miriam Nesbit have been so false to her class? No one replied, but each made a secret resolution to ferret out Miriam's suspected treachery if it were the last act of her life. "Let's start home, now," said Grace. "It's too late to go nutting anyhow, and these foolish sophomores have spoiled the afternoon, for me at least. If we don't cook up something to pay them back, the name of freshman will be disgraced forever more."