"Perhaps Miss Kaye won't let us have a bedroom together again," she said to herself. "I wonder whom she'll put me with! Suppose she sent one of the big girls to sleep here, Bessie Cunningham, or Marjorie Moreton. How hateful it would be! There'd never be any fun or talks in bed in the mornings. Or perhaps I shall be just alone, as I was before Sylvia came. I didn't care then, but I mind it dreadfully now I'm so accustomed to her." In the meantime Sylvia was feeling as dejected as Linda at the course which events had taken. She knew her friend was not so much to blame as the others, and it was terrible to find her mixed up in such an unpleasant business. "Hazel often tells stories," she reflected, "and I never thought much of Nina. But I'm sure Linda wouldn't do such a thing. There must be some mistake. If I could only see her, and get her to explain it all." That, however, was impossible. She was strictly forbidden to go into her bedroom, and neither Miss Coleman nor Miss Arkwright would give any news of the three banished offenders. It was a very dismal evening in the playroom for the remaining members of the third class. It cast quite a gloom over their spirits. Connie Camden did not tease and play tricks as usual, and Jessie Ellis had to retire to a corner occasionally and wipe her eyes. "You shouldn't have let them go," said Marian to Sylvia. "You were there and heard their plans." "How could I stop them?" cried Sylvia indignantly. "I said I wouldn't go myself. Hazel is more than a year older than I am, and she never listens to anything I say. She was as rude as she could be, and persuaded the others to go with her. Did you want me to go telling tales to Miss Arkwright?" "No, but you might have said more. I don't believe they would have gone if I had been there. I should have thought of so many reasons to stop them. It was a great pity I was at my practising," said Marian, who was always wise after an event. "Well, why didn't Gwennie say it all?" demanded Sylvia. "She was there." "Gwennie is much younger, and isn't expected to tell people what they ought to do. It's quite enough for her to do as she's told herself." "I'm only four months older than Gwennie, so I don't see why you should throw the blame on me as if it were my fault that they went," said Sylvia. "You'll be scolding Jessie next." "No, I shan't. She's so stupid no one takes any notice of her. You're different and ought to make people care," said Marian, getting her book and beginning to read, while Sylvia, doubtful whether the last remark was intended for a compliment or a reproof, took out her writing case and consoled herself by beginning a long letter home. It seemed very peculiar and gloomy not to be allowed to go to bed in her own room; she and Connie and Jessie undressed with many grumbles in the Hospital, and hoped they would not be compelled to stay there for the rest of the term.