Her thoughts wandered many times during the long routine of the long day—­recitations, practice, exercise, study periods.  Suppose Louise should open the box to put away clothes or to set its contents in order, find the packet, and report her to Mademoiselle.  The rules required that all jewelry be given in charge to one of the teachers.  How would she—­how could she—­explain having these things?  In the afternoon play-time, Anne ran to the dormitory, took out her workbox, and began with hurried, awkward stitches to sew a handkerchief into a bag to contain the jewels.  How the thread snarled and knotted!  How slowly the work progressed!

And then all at once, “Anne!” said a surprised voice.

Anne gave a great start and tried to hide her work.

“Anne, it is forbidden to come to the dormitory at this hour.”  It was Mademoiselle Duroc that spoke.  “Report for a demerit this evening.  But what is it that you do there?”

Anne was silent.

“Anne Lewis!  Answer!”

“I was just making a little bag,” she murmured.

“For what purpose?” asked the awful voice.

Anne faltered.  “To—­to put some things in.”

“What things?”

Anne clasped her hands imploringly.  “I cannot tell you, Mamzelle.  I cannot.  I cannot.”

“You cannot tell?” repeated Mademoiselle Duroc.  “I like not the mysteries.  But I like the less to see you excite yourself into hysterics.  Go downstairs and do not permit yourself to be found here again at this hour.”

Anne dropped the unfinished bag into her box and went slowly downstairs.  Mademoiselle Duroc followed her into the hall, stood there an undecided moment, then returned to the dormitory and paused beside Anne’s box.  She raised the lid, then dropped it, shaking her head.

“It is the most likely some child’s nonsense about a string of buttons or such a matter.  It suits not with the sense of dignity for me to search her box like a dishonest servant maid’s,” she said and returned to her room.

That night Anne tossed restlessly about until the other girls were asleep, then rose with sudden resolve to finish the bag by the moonlight which poured through the muslin curtains.  She laid the trinkets on the pillow beside Honey-Sweet and stitched away on the bag.  A little more, a very little more, and her work would be done.  She would tie the bag around Honey-Sweet’s waist and then surely the troublesome jewels would be safe.  Suddenly there came a piercing scream from the bed beside hers.  Mademoiselle Duroc’s door across the hall flew open, admitting a broad stream of light.

“What is the matter?” demanded Mademoiselle.  “Who screamed?”

For a moment no one spoke.  Mademoiselle turned on the electric lights and her sharp black eyes searched the room.  Bebe and Annette, wakened by the turmoil, sat up in bed, blinking at the light.  Madge rolled over and grunted.  Elsie continued to snore serenely.  But Amelia and Anne were wide awake.  Amelia was sitting bolt upright, staring about her.  Anne had not moved; she held the needle in her right hand, the unfinished bag in her left; beside her on the pillow gleamed the jewels.  Mademoiselle’s eyes took in every detail.