"They must have been looking out for her at the railway station," she thought, "but they wouldn't recognize her in my dress. I'd like to know what Poppie'll say when I turn up instead!" There was undoubtedly a humorous side to the situation, and Meg laughed as she pictured the discomfiture of the officials when they discovered their mistake. It seemed of no further use to try to prove her identity at present, so she allowed herself to be once more escorted to the cab and driven off, this time in the direction of Briarcroft. "I wonder what sort of a scrape I'm in for," she thought, as they drew up at the front door, and the constable in charge solemnly marched her into the house. Miss Poppleton came hurrying out of the library into the hall, followed by Miss Edith. "I am happy to be able to inform you, Madam, that our search has been successful," said the policeman, standing at attention. "What? Have you found her?" cried Miss Poppleton eagerly; then she stopped as she recognized Meg. "Ah! So that's it, is it? I'm sorry to say, constable, that you've brought the wrong girl!" Meg had thought out her plan of action carefully during her drive in the cab, and took advantage of the sensation that followed to rush at the Principal with an air of aggrieved and injured innocence. "Oh, Miss Poppleton! Isn't it a horrible mistake!" she exclaimed. "I told them my name, and they wouldn't believe me! Oh! please, may I go home immediately? My mother will be so dreadfully anxious at my being so late!" "Meg, do you know where Gipsy is?" interposed Miss Edith, catching her by the arm. "Indeed I don't; I haven't the least idea!" replied Meg truthfully. "Please let me go home, and relieve Mother's mind!" "Yes, go at once!" answered Miss Poppleton distractedly; and turning to the rueful constable, she began to explain matters with much volubility. Meg vanished like the wind, thankful that in the general excitement nobody had remarked upon the fact that she was wearing Gipsy's dress. She considered that she had come out of the affair uncommonly well, and congratulated herself upon her presence of mind in the emergency. She hurried home as fast as she could, anxious to tell the tale of Gipsy's escape and her own adventure, and rather proud of her share in both. To her surprise her mother took an utterly different view of the case from her own. "Gipsy run away!" cried Mrs. Gordon in great consternation. "And you changed dresses with her so as to help her? Oh, Meg! what have you done! You naughty, foolish, foolish girl! You little know the dangers you may have thrown her into. We must do our utmost to find her and bring her back this very evening. We should never forgive ourselves if any harm came to her. I must telephone at once, and see if Father's still at the office."