"I think we'll all be glad," replied Miss Parsons, frowning a little, for the cloth incident annoyed her. She, too, had been certain it was clean the afternoon before. Rosemary went home at noon, leaving half the cakes to do on her return. A large bowl of chocolate icing stood on the table, covered with a muslin cloth. There was no one to see the kitchen door open slyly fifteen minutes later, no one to see a figure dart in and make for the table. One hand lifted the muslin cloth, the other reached for the large tin salt shaker. "Drop that!" said a voice peremptorily. The shaker dropped to the floor with a clatter, and Fannie Mears turned to face Mr. Oliver. "What are you doing in here?" he asked sternly. "Did Miss Parsons ask you to do anything to that bowl?" At that moment Miss Parsons herself came into the kitchen. "I was looking for you," Mr. Oliver explained, "and I saw Fannie Mears about to shake something into that large bowl on the table. I thought Rosemary Willis was working here this morning." "She was--" Miss Parsons stooped to recover the shaker. "Salt!" she ejaculated as she saw what it was. "Fannie Mears, I do believe you were going to salt Rosemary's icing!" Fannie began to cry. "Did you salt the soup last fall?" asked the teacher sternly. "Did you? Answer me, Fannie." "Yes, I did," sobbed Fannie. "I got so sick and tired of hearing about Rosemary and her cooking. I put in the salt while she was looking at the tables in the dining-room with you. It makes me sick to hear all the fuss people make about her being such a good cook." Rosemary, breathless from running, burst in at that juncture, the clean tablecloth under her arm. "Rosemary," said Mr. Oliver gravely, "Fannie has just told us that it was she who over-salted the soup at the Institute dinner--you remember?" "You did?" cried Rosemary, turning to the other girl. "Did you take the needle-books you gave Shirley, too?" Fannie nodded. "Did you wad up the clean tablecloth for the cake table?" chorused Rosemary and Miss Parsons together. "And spill tomato soup on it, too?" "Catsup," corrected Fannie. "How can you be so horrid!" cried Rosemary in a burst of frankness. "Well, it's your own fault," declared Fannie resentfully. "You've got a swelled head over your cooking and I just wanted to make you see you weren't so much, after all." "But there were teachers from all over the State at the Institute dinner," protested Rosemary. "If the dinner was spoiled, they would blame the school because we were not better taught. And the fair is for the hospital and if it doesn't go off right, the whole school loses credit. Don't you see, Fannie, you weren't just hurting me, but you were making the whole school fall down."