“I’m going to cut Latin this afternoon and find out,” said Betty vigorously.  “If Miss Sharpe asks for me, you don’t know where I am; she never does anything but give you double lines to translate.”

Betty knew that Ada had a study period, which she usually spent in her room, directly after lunch.

Directly after she left the dining room that noon Betty sped away to the foot of the hill.  There were several stubby bushes about half-filled with wind-blown leaves and old rubbish and affording an excellent screen.  Betty crouched down behind one of these.

She had not long to wait.  Ada, in her beautiful mink furs, which she clung to persistently, though the fall weather so far had been very mild, was presently seen coming across the grass.  She walked straight to the spot where the bottle was buried, and, stooping down, brushed away the leaves and dirt.  She lifted the bottle.

“Pshaw, it’s empty!” she said aloud.

“Yes, it’s empty,” echoed Betty, stepping out from behind the bush.  “And you are to give the money back to me, and Libbie’s note with it.”

“Is that so?” said Ada contemptuously.  “I have something to say about that.  I intend to see that that note reaches the proper person—­Mrs. Eustice.”

Betty took a step nearer, her dark eyes blazing.

“I can play the kind of game you play—­if I must,” she said in a curiously repressed tone.  “What about the trip you and Ruth Gladys made to Edentown last Friday night?”

Ada glared at her.

“Were you there?  How did you know?” she stammered jerkily.  “If you were up to the same trick, you’ll look nice tattle-telling on us, won’t you?”

“I wasn’t there, but I have witnesses whom I can summon to say you were,” declared Betty, wishing her voice did not tremble with nervousness.  “You were the only girls from Shadyside, and you must have climbed down the fire—­”

Ada raised her hand that held the bottle.

“You—­you tell-tale!” she screamed threateningly.

Betty flung up her arm to knock the bottle aside, missed Ada’s hand and hit her shoulder.  Ada went down, Betty on top of her.

“Girls!  For mercy’s sake!” Miss Anderson stood beside them, scandalized.  “Betty, get up.  Ada, what are you thinking of?  I saw you from the gym windows.  You’ll have the whole school out here presently.  Betty, I thought you had Latin at this period?”

“I have,” admitted Betty, so meekly that Miss Anderson looked away lest she laugh.  “Only I had to see Ada.”

“I don’t know what you were quarreling about,” said Miss Anderson, with characteristic frankness.  “But I do know that both of you are old enough to know better than to revert to small-boy tactics.  You’ve a hole in your stocking, Betty, that would do credit to a little brother.”

“I ripped it on that stone,” said Betty regretfully.

Ada stood sullenly, unconscious of two dead leaves hanging to her hat which completely destroyed her usual effect of studied elegance.