There was a little more, but Genevieve stopped here. Not until she read that last sentence did she realize in the least what she was doing. Then, hurriedly, with flushed cheeks and shamed eyes, she thrust the letter out of sight under the papers. But there was something besides shame in her eyes; there was a very real, and a very tender sympathy for--folks. "And to think that I--read it," she breathed. Then, suddenly, she snatched up the papers again. "But she mustn't know--she _mustn't_ know," choked the girl. "Maybe, if I run, I can get there in time and tuck it into her desk. I _must_ get there in time," she declared aloud, darting out of the house and up the street without once looking back toward an amazed Miss Jane, watching her from the window. As Genevieve hoped would be the case, the janitor had not finished his nightly duties. The great front door stood wide open, and Genevieve made short work of reaching her own room. As she opened that door, however, she paused in dismay. Miss Hart was in her chair. Her arms lay folded on the desk before her, and her face was hidden in them. The knob under Genevieve's nerveless fingers clicked sharply, and Miss Hart raised her head with a start. During the one brief moment that Genevieve gazed into her teacher's startled eyes, wild plans raced through her mind: she would run; she would go to her own desk and leave the papers, then destroy the fateful letter to-morrow; she would walk up and hand the letter to Miss Hart now, and confess that she had read it; she would-- "Why, Genevieve!" cried Miss Hart, a little huskily. "Did you--forget something?" "No, Miss Hart; yes--well, I mean--it isn't that I _forgot_ exactly. I--I didn't know," she faltered, realizing more than ever the meaning of the letter she had just read, now that the wistful-eyed writer of it sat before her, bearing plain evidence of tears. "Can I do anything for you?" Miss Hart asked. Genevieve went, then, straight to the desk. The papers--with the letter--were rolled tightly in one hand. "No, Miss Hart, thank you; but--isn't there something that--that I can do for--you?" she faltered. What happened next was, to Genevieve, certainly, most disconcerting. Miss Hart gave one look into Genevieve's eyes, then dropped her face into her hands and burst into tears. At Genevieve's aghast exclamation, however, she raised her head determinedly and began to wipe her eyes.