“I’m so sorry,” she said. “You can’t be half so interested in it as you would be if you could have chosen it. If I were you, I would change, and choose another.” An inadvertent giggle from Imogene broke the embarrassed silence which followed Virginia’s remark; and led Miss Green to mistake Virginia’s honest interest for ill-bred sarcasm. She gathered the gray knit shawl, which she often wore, more closely about her shoulders, rose from her chair and left the room, saying in a frigid tone as she went: “Will you come to my room, Virginia, immediately upon the ringing of the study-bell?” “Why—certainly—Miss Green,” stammered poor surprised Virginia. “Mean old thing!” muttered Dorothy, as a slam of Miss Green’s door announced her complete departure. “Virginia didn’t—” “Dorothy,” warned Miss Wallace quietly. “I beg your pardon, Miss Wallace. I forgot.” Then Miss Wallace tactfully turned the conversation into other channels, but Virginia could not enter into it with any interest. She could not think how she had been impolite. Such a thought had never entered her mind. Why had Imogene laughed? She caught Priscilla and Mary looking reproachfully at Imogene. Even Dorothy seemed annoyed. The study-bell put an end to the forced conversation, and as Virginia went slowly toward Miss Green’s room, after encouraging pats and squeezes from the girls, who left her to go up-stairs, Miss Wallace asked Imogene to remain a few moments with her. Virginia found Miss Green still in the gray shawl, and more icy and forbidding than when she had hurried from the room. “Sit down, Virginia.” Virginia obeyed, sitting on the couch. “I must ask you to come nearer where I can see you more closely.” Virginia came nearer. Miss Green cleared her throat. “I feel it my duty, Virginia, to talk with you. I am, indeed, sorry to be obliged to reprimand you so soon after your entrance in the school. I cannot understand your rudeness of—” “But, Miss Green,” Virginia interrupted, because she could not help it, “really I—” “Do not add to your impoliteness by interrupting. Allow me to finish.” Virginia stammered an apology, her cheeks flushing painfully, her eyes bright, her heart rebellious. “Will you explain your rude suggestion as to my change of occupation? Will you attempt to justify Imogene’s giggle? It all looks to me like a contemptible conspiracy! Now, you may speak.” But for a long moment Virginia could not speak. Had she been at all to blame, she would have burst out crying; but the injustice of it all made her angry and too proud to cry. She choked back the tears which were blinding her eyes, and tried to swallow the lump in her throat. Miss Green waited, the epitome of wounded patience. At last Virginia spoke, and she spoke frankly, for she had not been in school long enough to know the meaning of diplomacy.