with a broken blade had been found on the roof under the window of the electric room.  That knife belonged to Frank Boyd.  The inference was very simple.  Frank had climbed in the window of the electric room from the roof of the second story and cut the wires, and then climbed out again, and so was not seen coming out of the room into the hall.  In climbing out he had dropped the knife without noticing it.  He had already left a piece of the blade inside.  Frank Boyd was one of the lawless spirits who had caused much of the trouble all through the year.  He had also been blackballed at the last election of the Thessalonian Society.  It was very easy to believe that he would try to do something to spite the Thessalonians.

Dick hastened down to Mr. Jackson’s office with the knife and asked him to fit the broken piece to the shortened blade.  It fitted perfectly.  Beyond a doubt it was Frank Boyd and not Hinpoha who had cut the wires in the electric room.  The next morning Frank was confronted with the evidence of the knife and confessed his guilt.  He had been in league with Joe Lanning, and cutting the wires had been his part of the job.  He had done it in the early part of the evening while the actors were making up for their parts, getting in and out of the window, just as Dick had figured out.  No one had detected him in the act and the lucky incident of Hinpoha’s having been seen coming out of the electric room turned all suspicion away from him.  Justice in his case was tardy but certain, and Frank Boyd was expelled, and Hinpoha was reinstated.  Mr. Jackson, in his elation over having caught the real culprit and effectually breaking up the “Rowdy Ring,” was gracious enough to make a public apology to Hinpoha.  So the blot was wiped off her scutcheon, and Emily’s secret was still intact, for no one ever asked again what Hinpoha had been doing in the electric room on the afternoon of the Thessalonian play.

CHAPTER XI.

ANOTHER COASTING PARTY.

“This is the terrible Hunger Moon, the lean gray wolf can hardly bay,” quoted Hinpoha, as she threw out a handful of crumbs for the birds.  The ground was covered with ice and snow, and the wintry winds whistled through the bare trees in the yard, ruffling up the feathers of the poor little sparrows huddling on the branches.

Gladys stood beside Hinpoha, watching the hungry little winter citizens flying hastily down to their feast.  “What is Mr. Bob barking at?” she asked, pausing to listen.

“I’ll go and find out,” said Hinpoha.  From the porch she could see Mr. Bob standing under an evergreen tree in the back yard, barking up at it with all his might.  Hinpoha came out to see what was the matter.  “Hush, Mr. Bob,” she commanded, throwing a snowball at him.  She picked her way through the deep snow to the tree.  “Oh, Gladys, come here,” she called.  Gladys came out and joined her.