A look of relief was so apparent on Jane’s pretty face that Judith was chagrined. But Judith knew too well if she did not put an end to the joke at once, and that decidedly, Jane would likely be insisting upon doing the rubbing for that ankle. Maybe between periods. Jane was like that with her sympathy, practical. Class in session all eyes seemed focused in the direction of the “Two Jays” as Jane and Judith were dubbed. Jane was quite as determined as her opponents that she would not run for class presidency, and Judith was just as positive as both factions that Jane would run and also that she would win. Little Judy Stearns, as she was telling herself, must have some sense, and she would get right to operating it that very afternoon. But how help Jane without hurting Helen? The day’s work seemed interminable. Everything dragged but worry, and that leapt. In a retrospective interval the memory of the queer fainting spell Helen suffered, just before leaving New York, came to Judith with positive relevance. What if that had been caused by someone frightening Helen, and if that someone had sent all that hateful story to Wellington? Obviously Helen would never have told them if such a thing had happened. Would she admit it now? That the Polish girl was seriously afraid of some haunting terror Judith knew instinctively, and it was certain any additional cause for worry would be equivalent to the proverbial last straw. No telling what might occur if Helen ever guessed she was the innocent cause of trouble for Jane. When class was finally dismissed Judith avoided Jane and sought out her “chiefs.” A real round-up of the voting situation must be made with all possible celerity, and Judith knew it would be no easy matter to rally her scattering forces, in the face of the delicious gossip that was slowly but surely filtering through the groups to the detriment of Jane’s reputation. Minette Brocton was waiting at the palms. She pinched Judith’s hands confidently as the two fell into step for recreation. “I think I can trace the story, Judy,” she said in a hushed voice. “And whether Jane runs or not, we must bury the corpse, or better still, cremate it. But how about little Nell? She seems supersensitive.” “She is exactly that. But don’t you think all—strangers are apt to be?” Judith was on the point of saying “foreigners,” when she caught herself. “Yes, I have always noticed that,” Minette replied. “But I overheard something at luncheon that gave me a clue. Did you ever meet a boy, a sort of foreigner while you were in New York?” “A boy—a foreigner!” Judith searched her memory. “Of course we likely met many such. You don’t mean call boys, bell boys, or check boys, do you?” “Oh, no, certainty not. I knew you met battalions of them. I mean some one who called on—Helen?” “Oh, mercy no!” Judith almost gasped. “Helen would not see anyone. She acted like a frightened little mouse.” “Then did she get many—letters?”