There was a commendable promptness evident on the part of a large portion of the students the next morning. By eight o’clock the corridor was well filled. The girls were somewhat in the majority, for, as Gordon had surmised, many of the boys had quite forgotten that the gift to which they subscribed was to be presented to-day. Miss Turner arrived soon after eight and smilingly fitted the key to the office door. Louise slipped in and placed the card she had written on the front of the desk, propping it up with a stamp-box, while the others who had arrived early to enjoy Mr. Grayson’s surprise crowded about the doorway and exclaimed at what they saw. All were not only delighted but quite astonished at the beauty of the furnishings. “I never supposed they’d be so lovely!” exclaimed one girl as she tiptoed to see over the shoulders of those in front of her. “Aren’t they just beautiful, Miss Turner?” And Miss Turner, standing guard at the door, smilingly agreed. “It’s too bad,” said Morris, “that we couldn’t have got the old things out of the way. He will see them and know right off that something’s up.” “But he won’t know what,” responded Toby Sears. “Besides, if this mob stays here he won’t be able to see the old furniture. It’s about time he came, isn’t it?” It was, and to prove it a small freshman who had been detailed to watch for the Principal’s approach from the entrance, came scuttling in with the news. “He’s coming!” he shouted. “He’s coming!” Miss Turner quickly closed and locked the door and walked toward the entrance, whilst the others scuttled away from the office but lingered in the corridor, the girls doing a good deal of excited giggling and the boys trying their best to appear unconcerned. Then Mr. Grayson turned the corner and a sudden silence reigned. Since by that time nearly the entire student body was assembled, the silence was distinctly strange and uncanny, and Mr. Grayson evidently thought it so as, making his way through the crowd, he gravely bowed and returned the murmured greetings of the boys and girls. A puzzled look appeared on his face and he bent frowning glances right and left. Miss Turner intercepted him half-way along the corridor. “Oh, Mr. Grayson,” she said casually, “here’s your key.” “Thank you, thank you. Ah――is there anything wrong, Miss Turner?” “Wrong?” asked the teacher in surprised tones. “Why, no, sir.” “Oh! I see! I thought――” He viewed the expectant faces about him rather bewilderedly. “Thank you, Miss Turner. Hm!”