"It is a most unwarrantable thing to ask, but I will do it," replied Miss Gibbs. "I hope my confidence in you will be justified." At 9.30 on the following morning a trap arrived at the Grange to convey the Reverend T. W. Beasley and his Gladstone bag to the railway station. A row of heads peeping from behind the curtains in the upper windows watched him depart, and exhibited manifestations of intense satisfaction. "There! He's actually gone!" "Only hope he won't miss his train and come back!" "No, no! He's in heaps of time, thank goodness!" "Glad he isn't staying the week-end!" "He's got to preach somewhere in aid of something on Sunday." "May he never come here again, that's all!" Perhaps in secret Miss Beasley was equally relieved. She had passed a strenuous week, and had possibly arrived at the conclusion that she was, on the whole, capable of arranging her own school to the satisfaction of herself and the parents of her pupils. She considered that she understood girls better than a bachelor university don, however great his literary attainments, could do. The experiment had not been altogether a success, and need not be repeated. She sighed as she waved a last good-bye and turned into the house. An urgent matter, which she had put off until her brother's departure, must now claim her attention. She ordered the entire Fifth Form, together with Hermie and Veronica, to repair to the practising-room, where Raymonde was still kept prisoner. The girls marched in as quietly as if they were going to church. Their Principal sat by the table, with two little parallel lines of worry on her usually smooth forehead, and a grieved look in her grey eyes. "It is very distressing to me to be obliged to make this enquiry," she began, "but it is absolutely necessary that we find out what has become of those missing notes. I put you all on your honour to tell me what you know. Can any girl throw any light on the matter?" She looked anxiously and wistfully round the little circle, but nobody replied. Raymonde sat with downcast eyes, and the old obstinate expression on her face. The eyes of all the other girls were focused upon her. "I am most loath to accuse anyone of such a dreadful thing as taking money," continued Miss Beasley, "but unless you can offer me some explanation, Raymonde, I shall be obliged to send you home. The facts look very black against you. You were treasurer, and cannot produce the funds; you were seen buying a postal order, and you received a handsome fountain pen by post." "If you please, Miss Beasley," interposed Veronica, "how could Raymonde be buying a postal order when Hermie and I saw her practising here?" "It is most puzzling, I allow; but both Mrs. Sims the postmistress, and Mrs. West, who happened to be buying groceries in the shop, agree emphatically that it was Raymonde who came to the counter. They say that she was not in school uniform, but wore a green dress and a small cap." "Raymonde has no green dress!"