"'A little less amusement, ladies. I can understand that it is difficult for youth to stoop to serious subjects...' And then he stopped with a little gasp and we knew he had seen the red curls! Just at that moment the door opened and in came a lady visitor. You know they're sort of inquisitors, very often 'old girls'--who can walk into any class-room and sit there to hear a lecture. Judy calls them 'Propriety Pills,' and, although some are really nice, here and there you get a Tartar who carries stories to the Principal. "This one was a Mrs. Bevis--we'd nicknamed her 'The Beaver.' She really was rather like that animal, with a snub-nosed, anxious face, and she always wore a black mantle and waddled as she walked. Well--you're sure you're not bored?" "Sure." McTaggart's voice was hearty. This sidelight on a school for girls was entertaining and unexpected. "Go on. What happened then?" "The Professor gave the Beaver a chair by the fire, facing the room. We'd hurriedly removed the curls during their polite palaver. This is the idiotic part. I'd put mine into a book that lay with others on my desk. I didn't notice at the time that it was an 'Ancient History.' As it happened, that day I was sitting just beneath the platform. We were, all of us, solemn as owls under the Beaver's sharp black eyes. For she's about the worst of the pack for nosing out any trouble. "The Professor lent her his primer and started on the lecture, still looking a little flushed, while we were busy taking notes. As luck would have it, midway, some date tripped him up and before I could collect my wits he asked me for my 'Ancient History.'" "Where the curl was?" McTaggart suggested. "Exactly." Jill's voice was tragic. "He leaned down from the platform and picked it up off my desk. Of course, it opened at _the_ page! There was the red lock--the card as well! "You can just imagine how I felt and I heard Judy Seton gasp. Luckily the Beaver missed it. The Professor never said a word, but his face was like a thunder-cloud. He hunted up the date he wanted, closed the book with a snap and put it down on his desk. At the end of the lecture he handed it back with a curt word of thanks and went off with the 'lady visitor,' talking fourteen to the dozen." "That's not the end?" McTaggart saw by the girl's face there was more to follow. "No--of course not. All that morning I simply sat on thorns, expecting between every lecture to be sent for by the Principal. But nothing happened. At five o'clock I went down from my last lecture and passed by the Professors' room, where the door was wide open. Inside was Mr. Jackson--_the_ Professor--you know--writing hard. So, then, I had an inspiration. I knocked and said: 'May I speak to you, sir?' And he wheeled round, looked surprised and said in a chilly voice: "'Certainly. What do you want?' "It was no good mincing matters, so I asked, outright: "'Are you going to report me, sir?'