“Prof.  Seabrook, I have been commissioned to hand you this communication,” she gravely said, as she laid, it on the table before him.

“Ah! by whom were you ‘commissioned,’ Miss Archer?” he inquired, his keen eyes searching her flushed face.

“By—­by the parties whose names you will find signed to it.”

“And what is the nature of the communication?”

“I—­er—­it will explain itself,” replied the trembling emissary, blushing furiously and averting her eyes.

“Very well; I will give it my earliest attention,” the professor returned, but eying the missive curiously.

“Thank you, sir,” and, with a nervous bow, entirely at variance with her habitual sang-froid, the girl hurried from the room, her bounding heart causing her to pant as if she had been running a race.

Prof.  Seabrook waited until the door closed after her, then unfolded the paper and began to read.  But his face grew stern and his brow heavily overcast as his glance hastily swept the page.

After reading it through and noting every signature, he began it again, perusing it more carefully, and, gradually, a gleam of amusement crept into his eyes; his stern features relaxed, and the corners of his mouth twitched suggestively.

“The little mischief is game,” he at length observed, “and this document is a very clever stroke of business; though at first it sounded rather pert, as if she were bound to make a joke of the affair.  But there is a straightforwardness and an appreciation of Miss Minturn’s position in it that rings true.  Really, I begin to think that girl is a power for good in the school, in spite of her fanaticism and heresy.  Hum!”—­reading aloud—­“’news of matters pending at headquarters’—­it traveled pretty fast; who was the ‘scout,’ I wonder?  Ah!  Jennie, of course; the little gossip!  Well, Miss Archer, you didn’t waste any time before dispatching your flag of truce, and you have rather a fine sense of honor underneath your lawlessness, after all.  So you are ‘captain’ of your company of sophomores!  I think we will rob you of your commission and see how you will stand the discipline.  ’Co.  S, Hilton Volunteers!’ pretty good—­pretty good!” and a light laugh rippled over the man’s lips.  “And Miss Tuttle is ’first lieutenant,’” he continued, “and gallantly came forward to share the self-imposed mission of her friend ‘to go to the front.’  There’s pluck there, too; but you are a precocious pair—­you two—­ and keep one busy guessing what you will do next.  All the same, with the right check-rein, I believe you’ll both make fine women, and—­the school would surely lose some of its spice without you.”

He carefully refolded the quaint document, locking it in a drawer of his desk, and the next moment the supper bell rang.

A meeting of the faculty was called for that evening, when the communication from the mischief-makers was read and discussed; and, in spite of their lawlessness, which demanded the imposition of a penalty severe enough to insure immunity from future ebullitions of the same nature, the originality and spirit pervading it were thoroughly appreciated by all.