"Of course you may come, silly," she said. "Dry your eyes and do try to be sensible and don't talk that way any more," she added, sitting down on the edge of the bed, where to Genevieve's delight she sat and gossiped about sundry School matters--to the great edification of the surrounding cubicles--until the bell rang. Next day, to the astonishment of the inmates of the "Jolly Susan," Genevieve simply haunted Catherine's room, and on the following day they could hear poor Catherine getting rid of her. "Really, Genevieve," they heard her say as she opened the door, "you are too foolish. Do run along; I must finish my essay for Miss Marlowe, and I dare say you have _something_ to do," with a sarcasm not lost upon her hearers, who grinned appreciatively, for Genevieve was noted for the ingenuity with which she escaped anything like work. Next day when the girls hurried out of afternoon study as the five o'clock bell rang, they made their usual wild rush for the mail-box. One would have thought that every girl in the school expected most important news. Suddenly a little choking cry was heard, and Genevieve, who had taken out her letter and was standing at one side of the group, turned white, as she drew out from its envelope another printed letter. Here was sensation, indeed! Several of her friends pressed closely around her to read it. Can't you take a hint, Genevieve Singleton? Stay in your own part of the house. Catherine simply hates the sight of you. Tears ran down Genevieve's face as she re-read this precious epistle and then crumpling the paper in her hands she ran to her room. Sympathizing friends followed, and "Poor Genevieve!" was heard on all sides. Judith had been a distressed spectator of this scene. How sorry Catherine would be! How sorry she was for Catherine! Whoever could be writing the letters? This, indeed, was the sole topic of conversation in the "Jolly Susan" during the dressing-hour, and before the evening was over the School was enjoying a thoroughly good gossip. One amateur detective had suggested that jealousy must be the motive of the unknown writer, for most of the girls dismissed the suggestion that Catherine was the author. Some one else contributed the story of Genevieve's unsuccessful attempt to obtain a room in the "Jolly Susan," and then some one, who had overheard Sally May's indignation thereat, suggested Sally May as a likely culprit. As was inevitable these mere suppositions grew by their many tellings into "facts," and by the next evening many of the girls were convinced that Sally May, "who is absolutely devoted to Catherine, my dear," was "wildly jealous of Genevieve," and was actually "seen putting a letter into the box."