It was one afternoon, a few days before the close of school for the term, which also would mark the start of the outdoor girls on their tramping tour that, as she was packing her books to leave her desk for the day, Betty saw a note fall out of her Latin grammar. "That's strange," she murmured, half aloud, "I wonder who could have put that there? Who is it from, I wonder?" "As if you didn't know!" laughed Amy, coming up behind her friend. They were alone in the classroom for the moment. "Why, what do you mean?" asked Betty blushing slightly. "I think I saw Will give Grace a note this noon," went on Amy. "Ah, secrets! And doesn't it happen that Will and Allen Washburn are quite chummy? If the initials A.W. aren't on that note, Betty--" "Of course they're not! The idea! Allen Washburn needn't think--" "Oh, I know he needn't send notes to you this way, but perhaps Will forgot to deliver it, and Grace just slipped it into your book, intending to tell you of it. Ah, Betty!" "Silly. It isn't that at all. See, I'll let you read the note." Hastily Betty unfolded it. There was but a single unsigned sheet of paper, and scrawled on it were these words: "Before you go camping and tramping ask Amy Stonington who her father and mother are." CHAPTER V AMY'S MYSTERY Betty was quick to comprehend the cruel words, and in an instant she had crumpled the anonymous scrawl in her hand. But she was the fraction of a second too late. Amy had read it. Betty heard the sound of Amy's sigh, and then the catch in her breath. She turned quickly. "Amy!" cried Betty. "Did you see it? Oh, my dear! The meanness of it! The awful meanness! Oh, Amy, my dear!" and she put her arms around her trembling companion. "Oh, if I only knew who sent it!" "I--I can guess!" faltered Amy. "Who?" "Alice Jallow." "The--the cat!" Betty simply could not help saying it. "Let--let me see it again," whispered Amy. "I didn't mean to read your note, Betty, but I saw it before I realized it." "My note? It isn't mine! I wouldn't own to receiving such a scrawl! Oh, Amy, I'm so sorry!" "Never mind, Betty. I--I've been expecting it." "You have?" "Yes. That--that is what has been bothering me of late. You may have noticed--" "I've noticed that you haven't quite been yourself, Amy, my dear, but I never suspected--and you think Alice sent this?" "I'm almost sure of it. It has to be known sooner or later. But don't say anything to Alice." "Why not? The idea! She ought to be exposed--and punished. I'll go to--" "No, please don't, Betty. It--it is true, and--and there is no use giving her the satisfaction of knowing that she has--has hurt me," faltered Amy. "Oh, the meanness of it!" murmured Betty. "But, Amy dear, I don't understand. This doesn't at all look like the writing of Alice Jallow." "I know; she has disguised her scribbling, that's all. But it doesn't matter. I'll never charge her with it." "Why not?"