Poor, short-sighted little Vivian, glad to be again in the favor of her adored Imogene, obediently hung the pail upon the nail, and descended to the dining-room, looking embarrassed as she took her seat. Miss Wallace’s keen eyes noted the embarrassment, and caught also a shade of disapproval cross Imogene’s face. “You must have washed in a hurry, Vivian,” whispered the unconscious Virginia, who sat next her. “There are drops all over your collar.” Vivian, more embarrassed than ever, raised her napkin to wipe the drops. Supper proceeded, but Miss Wallace had her clew. All through study-hours, while the others worked, unconscious of any excitement, Dorothy, Imogene, and Vivian waited with bated breath for the return of Miss Van Rensaelar. But she did not come. At nine-thirty she had not returned, and there was nothing to do but go to bed and lie awake listening. The clock struck ten, and stealthy steps were heard in the corridor. Could that be Katrina returning? No, for she would never soften her tread for fear of disturbing the sleepers. Who could it be? Whoever it was was going up the stairs, for they creaked a little. The girls held their breaths for one long moment. Then—a frightful splash, followed immediately by a crash and an unearthly shriek, rent The Hermitage. Those awake and those who had been sleeping rushed into the hall, in which the light was still burning. Down the-stairs came a person in a gray flannel wrapper, which clung in wet folds about her shivering figure, and from every fold of which ran rivulets of water. The person’s scant locks were plastered to her head, save in front, where from every curl-paper dripped drops as from an icicle. It was Miss Green! Frightened, furious, forbidding Miss Green! Simultaneously the girls laughed—innocent and guilty alike. No one could have helped it—at least not they, who were, for the most part, completely surprised. And Miss Green, it must be admitted, was excruciatingly funny. She stood in the middle of the hall, dripped and glared. When she could command her trembling voice: “Mary Williams, you are a Senior monitor, and do you laugh at such outrageous conduct?” “I—I beg your pardon, Miss Green,” stammered Mary. “I really couldn’t help it. I’m sorry.” “Will you explain this occurrence?” “I really can’t, Miss Green. I don’t know anything about it.” At this juncture, hurried steps were heard on the stairs, and Miss Wallace mercifully appeared. When she saw Miss Green, her own lips quivered, but she restrained them. The shivering Miss Green explained the situation in a voice quivering with cold and anger. Then, as if her own conduct needed explanation: “I went up-stairs merely to—to see if the windows were lowered, and this is what I received. Let us probe this disgusting matter to the bottom, Miss Wallace.” “I think you should first get into dry things,” Miss Wallace suggested gently. “Then we will talk matters over. Girls, please go to your rooms.” The girls obeyed.