"But I wanted it terrible, jus' the same. I never see anything han'somer, an' it looked swell on me. I put it on jus' once for a minute. It didn't give me no pleasure, though. I felt jus' sneaky an' mean. After that I put it away. Once in a while I took a look at it. Then my little girl got a bad cold. She was awful sick. I forgot all about the sack. She pretty near died. I sat up with her nights for quite a while. When she got better I thought about the sack again, and knowed that God had come down hard on me for bein' a thief. So I jus' got ready an' brung it back. It ain't hurt a mite, an' I hope you won't make me no trouble, 'cause I've had enough." Mrs. Weatherbee's feelings can be better imagined than described. The return of the missing sweater at the critical moment was sufficiently astounding, not to mention the pathetic little confession that accompanied its return. She felt nothing save intense sympathy for her humble caller. When the latter took her leave a few moments later, she went away wiping her eyes. Far from making her any "trouble," Mrs. Weatherbee had treated her with the utmost gentleness. The stately, white-haired woman with the "proud face" had not only thanked her for returning the "sack," she had asked for her humble caller's address and expressed her intention of sending the little sick girl a cheer-up present. Left alone, Mrs. Weatherbee sat smiling rather absently at the dainty blue and white bit of knitting which she had taken from its wrapper. She thought she understood very well how it had happened to stray into the rubbish can. She now recalled that the rubbish cans about Chesterford and at the edge of the campus were much the shape and size of the package boxes used by the postal service. Given a dark, rainy night and an absent-minded messenger, the result was now easy to anticipate. Here was proof piled high of Judith Stearns' "fatal failing." There was but one thing more to be done before winding-up summarily an affair that had been to her vexatious from the beginning. She had obtained plenty of evidence for the defense. Now she turned her attention to the prosecution. She had yet to hold a private word with Elsie Noble. This she resolved to do directly the freshman in question had returned to the Hall from her afternoon classes. Elsie, on her part, had been looking forward to this very interview with a degree of sullen satisfaction. On the day following the scene in Mrs. Weatherbee's room, Marian had informed her cousin of all that had taken place. As a result, Elsie had flown into a tempestuous rage over having been dragged into the trouble by Marian. "You've got to do as I say, Elsie. If you don't, you'll be sorry," Marian had coldly threatened. "Maiz and I will drop you. Besides, I'll tell Mrs. Weatherbee all about that register business. Then she'll believe you listened outside the dressing-room, no matter how much you may deny it."