“Oh, let’s fight it out,” cried a shrill voice from a corner.

“That means let Miss Minturn fight it out,” retorted Carrie Archer, spiritedly.

“Well, she’s game—­she won’t tell, and it will all die out of itself, after a while.”

“But that would leave a very uncomfortable sting behind—­the sting of cowardice,” said Rose Tuttle, with very red cheeks.  “I tell you what, my dear fellow sophs,” she went on, after an irresolute pause, “if Miss Minturn had given us away to-day every mother’s daughter of us would have called her a ‘spy’ and a ‘tattler.’  But, although she knows exactly as well as you and I do”—­a chuckle of mirth escaping her—­“who tied those ropes to the doors, she has just faced the professor and those teachers and practically told them that she would not give us away.”

“Why couldn’t she have held her tongue altogether, then?” grumbled a discontented voice.

“Good gracious, Nell! knowing what she did she couldn’t keep mum and let ’Wild Jen’—­poor goosie! whose curiosity is always getting her into some scrape or other—­bear the whole brunt of it,” Miss Archer replied, with curling lips.  “No, she has put us upon our honor, and if we don’t do the square thing I think she’ll have a right to call us—­sneaks.”

“Carrie, you’re hitting out pretty straight from the shoulder,” cried her friend Rose, with a short laugh.

“Well, maybe; but I didn’t miss myself in the trial of my muscle,” was the dry rejoinder.

There was much more talk after the same order, the ayes and nays on the question of “open confession” being about equally divided; while all began to feel that there wasn’t quite as much fun as they had anticipated to be gotten out of midnight escapades.

“Well, sophies, I’ll tell you what I’m going to do,” finally said Miss Archer, breaking in upon the hubbub of voices, a look of determination settling over her face, “but first I’ll say what I’m not going to do:  I’m never going to hear it said that I forced somebody else to stand in a gap that I hadn’t the courage to fill.  I’m not going to sneak out of sight behind another to save myself.  I started this ball rolling and planned the details of the affair, and, now, I am going straight to Prof.  Seabrook and tell him so and swallow the bitter pill he gives me with what grace I can.  It won’t be sugar-coated, either.  I won’t give anyone else away, so don’t be afraid,” she interposed in response to terrified exclamations and frightened faces.  “I’ll just do the square thing myself, and you know it is always the commanding officer who is held responsible for leading his subordinates astray.”

Miss Archer was the daughter of an ex-colonel, which will account for her simile.

There was dead silence for a full minute after she ceased speaking, and the faces in that quiet room would have been an interesting study for a physiognomist.

Then Rose Tuttle sprang to her feet and held out her hand to her friend.