"Well, you know very well, Judy, that Genevieve has a crush on Catherine. Why, Cathy had fairly to put her out of her room the other day, and on Wednesday evening, when we were dancing after evening prep., I heard her tell Genevieve that she wouldn't dance with her again until she stopped being such a goose." "But the letter?" said Judith. "I'm coming to that. It was printed and I can't remember it exactly, but it was something like this: Don't hang around Catherine Ellison any more, Genevieve Singleton, she can't bear the sight of you. A word to the wise is sufficient. She is crying like anything and Peggy Forrest says it is a perfect shame." "What's a perfect shame?" asked Josephine pointedly. "Why, the meanness of the person who sent that letter," said Nancy; "whoever did it, is a mean horrid thing, every one says so." Every one was having one opinion or another, for the news spread like wildfire throughout the house, and at tea-time poor Catherine knew that this choice piece of gossip was being discussed at every table. She was not long left in ignorance as to the fact that some of the girls thought that she herself had written the note in order to get rid of an unwelcome visitor, who was very difficult to snub. Other girls, who had resented the prefect's attitude towards crushes, expressed great sympathy for Genevieve, and there was much speculation as to the probable author of the letter. Catherine took counsel with Eleanor and they decided that it was a tempest in a teapot and that Genevieve would be quite all right by to-morrow. However, next day Genevieve's eyes were still red and she began to assume the attitude of an early Christian martyr. Catherine, who had been very much vexed by the whole affair, felt remorseful. "Poor Genevieve," she thought, "she's feeling very badly. I can't help wondering why she let the others see the note; but there is no use judging; I'd better go and say good-night to her." This last was looked upon as an act of special favour and condescension on the part of a prefect, and Catherine felt that she was being very magnanimous. In the visiting time before "lights out" bell, she tapped at Genevieve's door and to her dismay Genevieve flung her arms round her neck. "Oh, Catherine, say you didn't mean it." "Mean what, you silly?" replied Catherine, crossly realizing that every girl within hearing distance was pricking up her ears. "Surely you don't imagine that I would stoop to write an anonymous letter." "No-o," stammered Genevieve, "but I am sure you don't like me"--and she began to sob afresh. "I can't bear you to dislike me. Do say that I may still come to your room sometimes." Catherine was only human, if she _was_ eighteen and a prefect, and although annoyed with Genevieve, she was touched by the genuine distress on the girl's face.