Alice wore a buff linen that suited her “golf style” admirably.  She had the air of the well-trained college girl, the result, perhaps, of annual trips to the seashore, where she was allowed to indulge in boating, swimming, and other “manly sports” as she termed the exercise.

Belle Miller, otherwise known as “Tinkle,” was as “dear and dainty” as ever, in a creamy white swiss, and May Egner wore lavender, although fully conscious of the disastrous effects of picnic sun on that perishable shade.  It was a “last year’s” gown, so May decided she might better get a few more turns out of it and this, she thought, would be one of the rare occasions, when a lavender might be worn, “with impunity.”

All the girls wore appropriate costumes, and, when the classes assembled, the room presented a veritable holiday look.  Study seemed the last thing to be thought of amid such gaiety.

Even Miss Ellis wore a white collar and cuffs, a relief from her usual somber black, and as she touched the bell she smiled pleasantly to her pupils, plainly bidding them a happy holiday.

“Young ladies,” she began, “we will take a brief review of last Friday’s work.  It is so near closing time we must not waste an entire day.”

Dorothy felt the time had arrived for her to speak.

How she dreaded to mar that happy school hour with such unpleasant reminders of past troubles!

But she had promised Sarah; moreover it was due the entire class that the occurrence should be disposed of honorably.

Tavia was waiting anxiously.  Alice also fidgeted at her books.  Finally Dorothy raised her hand.  The motion was not seen at once by Miss Ellis, but it is safe to say no other person in the room missed it.

A stir of excitement caused the teacher to look up and she bowed to Dorothy.

“I am sorry, Miss Ellis,” began Dorothy with hesitation, “to refer to anything unpleasant today, but I have promised Sarah Ford to make an explanation for her—­she of course could not come herself.”

“What is it Dorothy?” asked the teacher, although she no doubt guessed what the girl wished to say.

“I just want to state that Sarah did not intend to blame anyone for her accident—­she had only cried that it was our fault when she was suffering so, and did not mean that those about her should have taken it up as they did.  She wished me to apologize for her, and to say that the whole thing was an accident, the reports as well as the injury.”

“Thank you,” said Miss Ellis as Dorothy sat down.  “I am very glad indeed that the unpleasant happening has been disposed of.”

Alice was on her feet next.

“I also want to apologize, Miss Ellis,” she broke out in her “boyish tones,” adding:  “I should not have spoken as I did, when you asked me to be silent.  I was rude to do so.”

“A fault atoned for is a lesson learned,” commented the teacher, as Alice took her seat.