“You poor, dear thing!” she cried. “We’re all furious! You didn’t do one thing but be polite. We’re more furious at Imogene for giggling! That only aroused Greenie’s suspicions. What did she say? Was she awful? I’m so glad you’re not crying. You got the notes, didn’t you?” “Yes,” said Virginia, returning the embrace. She read the notes. All expressed a mixture of fury, loyalty, and sympathy. Then she took down her own “Thought Book,” for she had also begun to keep one, and placed the notes carefully between its pages. Priscilla watched her, puzzled. Most of the girls were crying with rage when they came from Miss Green’s room. Virginia opened the back part of her “Thought Book,” and separated some thirty pages from those before. Then she dipped her pen in the ink, but before writing, turned to Priscilla. “Priscilla,” she said slowly, “she is a very unjust woman. I think she is very nearly a cruel one. I shall _never_ try to like her again!” While Priscilla watched her, more puzzled than ever, she began to write in large letters on the first of the pages thus separated. “‘ALL TRUE WISDOM IS GAINED ONLY THROUGH EXPERIENCE.’” “These pages will contain accounts of wisdom-giving experiences, and will pertain especially to matters of Decorum.” “Experience I. Oct. 18. I have learned that the most careful politeness may be called rudeness. Also that Pity is _not_ akin to Love, even though the Bible says it is. Also, that remarks, intended to be polite, about one’s vocation, had best be avoided, especially when it is previously known that one’s vocation has been thrust upon her. “Why these things are so, I don’t pretend to know.” She closed the book, and replaced it in her desk. Afterward she sat for a long moment watching a crescent moon sink below the horizon. “Are you going to study to-night, Priscilla?” she asked at last. Priscilla turned almost fiercely upon her. “I shall fail in Latin on Monday and Tuesday, _anyway_,” she said, with unreasoning loyalty, “and maybe on Wednesday, and I’m not exactly sure about Thursday. I know it will hurt _me_ and not _her_, but it doesn’t seem as though I could ever get a good lesson for her again.” At nine there was an indignation meeting in their room, which every one attended, except Imogene and Vivian, and at which Virginia, though the center of attraction, said little. She appreciated their loyalty, but somehow she could not talk. It had all surprised her too much. But the others could talk. The room hummed with their vehement whisperings. “It just shows how suspicious she is!” “Never mind, Virginia. It’s no disgrace to you.” “It’s really Imogene’s fault. Why did she giggle like that?” “Do you suppose it could have been on purpose?” Courageous Anne ventured to give voice to a suspicion which, except for Dorothy, seemed general enough.