Mrs. Livingston rose, as did the two teachers whom she had named.  A heavy silence settled over the cook tent after the three women had disappeared into the kitchen, a small tent at the rear of the cook tent.  They were gone for some time.  Finally, Mrs. Livingston and Miss Partridge returned.  Miss Elting was not with them.  The Chief Guardian’s face wore an expression of sternness such as none of the girls ever had observed there before.

Harriet appeared wholly to have lost her appetite.  She was making a brave effort to eat, but the food choked her.  The meal was finished in silence.  At the conclusion of the meal, Mrs. Livingston rose and requested the girls to come to order.

“Young ladies,” she began, “a most serious thing has occurred.  I make no accusations.  Miss Burrell, where is the key to your supply box?”

“I hung it on a nail on the outside of the tent pole just behind my work table, Mrs. Livingston.”

The Chief Guardian turned to Miss Partridge.

“Do you mind bringing Miss Burrell’s key and box, Miss Partridge?” she asked.  The young guardian rose promptly and left the tent.  A few moments later, she returned bearing a galvanized box, slightly larger than a baking powder case.  This she placed on the table before the Chief Guardian, laying a key beside it.  Harriet saw that the box was hers, but she did not know why it had been brought to the tent.

Mrs. Livingston unlocked the supply box, then tilting it so that the light from the hanging lamp nearby shone into the box, she peered in.  Harriet saw her grope in the box, saw her withdraw some small object and examine it in the palm of her hand amid a breathless silence.  Then the Chief Guardian raised her eyes, fixing them on Harriet Burrell with an inquiring, sorrowful gaze.

CHAPTER XVIII

AN “HONOR” FAIRLY LOST

“Miss Burrell,” began the Chief Guardian in an impressive voice, “I find that a serious offense has been committed, an offense that cannot be overlooked.  A prank is allowable within reasonable limits, but any such trick as this borders on the disgraceful.”

“Wha-at do you mean, Mrs. Livingston?” questioned Harriet.

“We have examined the pot in which the soup was made.  We have, after careful examination, decided what it is that gives the consomme the peculiar flavor that you all have noticed.”

Harriet listened with an expression of grave concern.  She forgot in the interest she felt in what the Chief Guardian was about to say, her own humiliation at having lost the “honor” she had so nearly earned.

“We came to the conclusion that nothing but soap could give the soup the peculiar flavor that makes it so unpalatable.  Then again we observed little beads floating on the surface,” continued Mrs. Livingston.  “While attractive to look at these were very disagreeable to the taste for they were soap bubbles.  However, an entirely different complexion has been placed on the matter since my examination of your box before me on the table.  Miss Burrell, I find in this box a small piece of castile soap from which some shavings have been left in the box and on the paring knife with which the soap was shaved off.”