When the last girl had disappeared the principal turned to Eleanor.  “I will listen to your apology, Miss Savell,” she said coldly.

Eleanor looked scornfully at the principal, and was silent.

“Do you intend to obey me, Miss Savell?” asked Miss Thompson.

Still there was no answer.

“Very well,” continued Miss Thompson.  “Your silence indicates that you are still insubordinate.  You may, therefore, choose between two things.  You may apologize to me now, and to-morrow to the girls you have accused of treachery, or you may leave this school, not to return to it unless permitted to do so by the Board of Education.”

Without a word Eleanor rose and walked haughtily out of the room.

CHAPTER XVI

THE JUNIORS FOREVER

When the four classes assembled Thursday morning, every girl, with the exception of Eleanor, was in her seat.  Her absence created considerable comment, and it was a matter of speculation as to whether she had purposely absented herself or really had been suspended.

After conducting opening exercises, Miss Thompson pronounced sentence on the culprits.  They were to forfeit their recess, library and all other privileges until the end of the term.  They must turn in two themes every week of not less than six hundred words on certain subjects to be assigned to them.  If, during this time, any one of them should be reported for a misdemeanor, they were to be suspended without delay.

Their penalty was far from light, but they had not been suspended, and so they resolved to endure it as best they might.

Grace Harlowe felt a load lifted from her mind when Miss Thompson publicly announced that she had not received any information from either Mabel Allison or the Phi Sigma Tau.

“Thank goodness, none of us were concerned in that affair,” she told the members of her basketball team at recess.  “There are two girls on the sophomore and three on the freshman team whose basketball ardor will have to cool until after the mid-year exams.”

“You might know that some of those silly freshmen would get into trouble,” said Nora scornfully.

“’Twas many and many a year ago,
In an age beyond recall,
That Nora, the freshman, lowly sat
At one end of the study hall.”

recited Anne Pierson in dramatic tones.

There was a burst of laughter from the girls at this effusion, in which Nora herself joined.

“What a delicate way of reminding me that I once was a freshman!” she exclaimed.

“Anne has a new accomplishment,” said Grace.  “She can spout poetry without trying.”

“Small credit is due me,” said Anne, smiling.  “Anyone can twist ’Annabel Lee’ to suit the occasion.”

“By the way, Anne,” said Grace, “as you are a poet, you must compose a basketball song to-day, and I’ll see that the juniors all have copies.  It’s time we had one.  Let me see what would be a good tune?”