“And you let Anne bear it—­you let Anne be punished—­oh, you miserable—­little—­little—­cur,” said the indignant squire of dames, in a white heat.

“Aw, what could I do?” whimpered Tommy.

“Go in and tell Miss Mary,” said Launcelot.

“Aw—­Launcelot—­”

“Go in and tell Miss Mary!”

Tommy went.

But Miss Mary did not wish to be bothered.

“I made a rule and Anne broke it,” she said, when Tommy tried to straighten things out, “and that is all there is to it.  Don’t talk about it any more, Tommy,” and she dismissed him peremptorily.

When Tommy told Launcelot the result of the interview, the big boy set his lips in a firm line, and started off down the dusty road.

He went straight to town and to Judy.

“Oh, oh,” said Judy, when she had listened to his tale of woe, “what a mean old thing she is—­I hate her—­” and her dark eyes flashed.

“I don’t think Miss Mary is mean,” said Launcelot, “but the children are restless, and she isn’t very strong, and when she feels badly she takes it out on the scholars.”

“But to punish Anne,” said Judy, and her voice trembled, “dear little Anne—­”

“She might at least have listened to Tommy’s explanation,” said Launcelot.

After a pause he said:  “I came to you because I thought you might go and see Anne after school.  It would do her a lot of good.  She will be all broken up.”

“I will go to school and get her,” cried Judy, eagerly.  “Is it very far?”

“I am afraid you couldn’t walk,” said Launcelot, doubtfully.

“I’ll drive over in the trap,” said Judy.  “Grandfather says I can use Vic whenever I want to.”

“It was pretty mean of Miss Mary to pile it on, I must say,” said Launcelot, as he rose to go.  “She might have let Anne be in the entertainment.”

“What?”

“She isn’t going to let Anne be in it.”

“Not be ’Cinderella’?” Judy’s tone was ominous.

“No.”

“Oh, oh, oh.”  Judy’s hands were clenched fiercely.  “I’ll get even with her, Launcelot.  I’ll get even with that teacher yet.”

Launcelot smiled at her vehemence.

“But you can’t,” he said.

“Can’t I?” with a shrug of her shoulders.

“No.”

“Wait,” said Judy, and not another word could he get out of her on the subject.

The afternoon dragged along its interminable length, and Anne, with bursting head, thought that it would never end.

“Tick, tock,” proclaimed the old school clock, as the hands crept slowly to one, to two, to three.

“In five minutes I can go,” thought poor little Anne wildly, and just then the school-room door opened, and on the threshold appeared a self-contained young lady in pale violet gingham, and the young lady was asking for Anne Batcheller!

“Judy!” said Anne’s heart, with a bound, but her lips were still.