Celia had looked up for the second time to say, “Girls, I must have better order,” and things had for several minutes quieted down, when Charlotte suddenly announced in a loud whisper, “Here they come!” and with that there was a rush for the windows.

The cause of the excitement was of course the Whittredge carriage, but all anybody caught was a fleeting glimpse of a white dress beside Miss Genevieve’s black one, and, as luck would have it, Mrs. Graham opened the door just in time to witness the scramble for a view.

“Young ladies, you amaze me!  What is the meaning of this?” she demanded, as the girls, half of whom had rushed because the others had, returned abashed to their seats.

“I never knew them to behave so before,” said Celia, in apology.  “Something seems to be wrong to-day.”

“Wrong, indeed,” repeated Mrs. Graham, who was a person of somewhat majestic appearance.  Then her glance fell on Belle’s desk.  “And this explains the rapid disappearance of my chalk!” she added, holding up to view a pen tray on which were arranged a number of tiny goblets and dishes neatly cut out of chalk.

Katherine, who had not left her seat, laughed nervously.  She stood in great awe of the principal, and she did not in the least wish to laugh.

Mrs. Graham looked at her sternly, “One mark in deportment, Katherine, and three to those who left their desks, and you will all spend your recess indoors.  Belle, I will see you in the office.”

Belle followed Mrs. Graham, with her head held high, her lips pursed up saucily, her black eyes snapping.  Katherine, through her own tear-filled ones, watched her in astonishment.

When Belle returned study hour was over, and the culprits who were condemned to stay indoors had grouped themselves beside the window.

“What did she do to you, Belle?” they cried.

“Nothing,—­just talked.  She said it was wasting time and chalk, and that it wasn’t honest.  Such a fuss about a little chalk!”

Celia Fair, who had her hat on, ready to go home, came behind Belle, and with a hand on either side of her face she lifted it till the saucy eyes looked into her own.  “Does that make any difference, really—­because it is just chalk?” she asked.

Belle wriggled out of her hands, only to clasp her around the waist.  “I wouldn’t take your chalk,” she said, laughing.

“I don’t know what to think of you to-day,” Miss Fair continued, looking around the group.  “I am afraid Mrs. Graham will not trust me to keep study hour after this.”

There was a general cry of, “Oh, Miss Celia, why not?”

“Do you think she can have a high opinion of my ability to keep order?”

“But no one else could do any better.”

“If Mrs. Graham had been here, you would not have rushed to the window, I know very well.”

“But we are so much fonder of you, Miss Celia,” urged Charlotte.