CHAPTER X.

MR. HUGO picked himself up, his appearance not greatly improved by the mud which decorated his dress and moustache, or by the black eye so generously bestowed upon him by the baggage master, who had again put his hands in his pockets, and was coolly regarding him through the glass door of the station house, much as he might have amused his leisure hours by the contemplation of a stray dog or horse.

His first impulse was to annihilate his late antagonist upon the spot, but a second thought convinced him that the work of annihilation would not be a very easy task, and might be attended with inconvenience to himself; so he contented himself with threatening to procure his immediate discharge from office, a prospect which Mr. Brown seemed to take very coolly, and walked off to his lodgings.

As he himself expressed it, he had still another card to play. Delia was out of his power, and her fortune was lost to him, and he gnashed his teeth with rage, as he thought how Mr. Fletcher had carried her off from under his very face and eyes; but he had still all her letters, and he believed that her father would be very glad to purchase his silence and their destruction, by the sacrifice of a part of that fortune which he had hoped to secure entire. Revolving these schemes in his mind, he retired to rest.

We have already related how Mr. Fletcher and his companion were received by Mrs. Pomeroy at the door. It was no time for reproof or inquiry, for Delia was clearly all but beside herself with excitement and terror, and moreover, it was necessary to have the house quiet before any alarm should be given which might lead to inconvenient questions. It was not till Delia was half led, half carried up stairs into Mrs. Pomeroy's room, her dripping shawl and dress removed, and a restorative administered, that Mrs. Pomeroy spoke.

"My poor, dear child," said she, "What could have induced you to take such a step?"

"I don't know," replied Delia. "I was possessed, I think."

A man's step was heard at the door at the moment, and trembling all over she clung to Mrs. Pomeroy, exclaiming—"Oh, Mrs. Pomeroy, don't let him come near me—he will kill me!"

"Do not be frightened, my love,—it is only Mr. Fletcher, and you do not fear him. No one shall hurt you. Poor thing," she said to herself, as she disengaged herself and opened the door. "It is clearly no time for lecturing. I must get her to bed at once, and it is a wonder if she is not sick enough in the morning to make a good excuse for keeping her there. I only hope poor Emily won't be sick again. What an effort she must have made!"

Mr. Fletcher had come to suggest that some one should go over to Delia's room, and take measures to prevent any untoward discoveries being made in the morning.

"I will go myself, as soon as I got her to bed," said Mrs. Pomeroy. "She is terrified almost out of her senses."

"I believe she has been ruled by terror more than any thing else," replied Mr. Fletcher. "She was evidently most thankful to see me come in. The villain thought he had provided against her escape, by telling Brown that she was deranged, and he was her keeper. He did not know exactly with whom he was dealing."

"There is one thing I should like to know," said Mrs. Pomeroy, "and that is, how you came to be there at all?"

Mr. Fletcher only smiled, and said good night, nor though Mrs. Pomeroy often attacked him upon the subject afterward, did she ever succeed in getting an answer. Whatever might be his sources of information, he kept them to himself.

"I shall put you to bed in my room for to-night," said Mrs. Pomeroy, returning to Delia, "and to-morrow we will see what is to be done. But this much I must say—I will do nothing for you—I will leave you to the fate you have provoked by your misconduct, unless you promise to be guided entirely by me, and to be perfectly obedient and straight-forward."

"I will," replied Delia, earnestly. "I have had enough of crooked courses, and by the help of God,—if He will help such a creature as I am—I will never tell another lie as long as I live."

"You must not doubt of God's mercy," said Mrs. Pomeroy. "The greatest sinner may return to Him, with a full assurance of welcome and pardon. At the same time, you must not expect to escape entirely from the consequences of transgression."

"I don't mind that," replied Delia. "Only for my father's sake, I should be glad to escape from disgrace. But I fear that is impossible!" And she burst into tears.

"We will talk it all over in the morning, and decide what is best to be done," said Mrs. Pomeroy, soothingly. "You must go to bed now, and try to rest. See, here is poor Emily waiting for you! You ought to be grateful to her, for she ran a great risk to try to save you."

"Oh, Delia!" whispered Emily, as she clasped her friend in her arms, "I told! I could not help it!'"

"You was right," replied Delia, returning the embrace. "If I had only listened to you—but it is too late, now!"

"You must not give way to despair," observed Mrs. Pomeroy, over-hearing her. "Think how much worse it would have been if Mr. Fletcher had not found you, or if the cars had come in time! Lie down, now, and do not talk any more. I am going over to your room, and hope to find you both asleep when I return."

She kissed them both, turned down the gas, and left them to repose. They had both been greatly excited, and now felt as though rest was almost out of the question, but sleep comes easily to the young, and when Mrs. Pomeroy returned, she found them slumbering in each other's arms.

Mrs. Pomeroy's prophecy proved true, and Delia, next morning, was too ill to rise. Great was the questioning and wonderment when her room was found empty, and Miss Thomas came running over to Mrs. Pomeroy's room with the news, in a state of the greatest excitement.

"What do you think, ma'am? Miss Mason is gone! Her room is empty, and all her clothes that she wore yesterday are gone: She has gone off to be married, no doubt. Well, I only hope I shall be allowed to believe my own eyes, next time, that is all. I am not quite a goose, nor absolutely a blind bat, though some folks seem to think so!"

"Gently, gently, my dear Miss Thomas," said Mrs. Pomeroy, smiling in spite of herself. "Miss Mason is safe in my room, and has been there since midnight. She is very ill, and excessively nervous, and I shall be obliged to you and the other teachers, if you will keep the house as quiet as possible, and allow none of the young ladies to come to my room—but I will arrange that matter myself."

Miss Thomas retreated to her own domain, rather disgusted than otherwise that Delia should be safe after all, for she was a prophet of the school of Jonah, and would rather half the young ladies should run away to be married, than that one of her own predictions should fall to the ground.

"What is it, Miss Thomas? What did Mrs. Pomeroy say? Does she know that Delia has gone?" were some of the questions that greeted her from the group of dressed, undressed, and half-dressed girls, which surrounded her as she made her appearance in the hall.

"Hold your peace all of you, and get ready for breakfast!" was the polite rejoinder of the teacher. "Delia is in Mrs. Pomeroy's sick in bed. That is the whole story, and no one in their senses would have thought of any thing else. Look at your petticoats, Miss Faushane,—actually sweeping the floor—I wonder you don't take them to rub the stove with. Miss Crosby, I will give you an untidy mark for every curl on your head, if you don't get rid of those curl papers by breakfast time. Miss Graves, if none of the other teachers think it worth while to pay any attention to their duties, I think as long as you are monitress, you might see that the young ladies behave themselves properly, instead of indulging in idle gossiping conjectures about their companion."

Janet only shrugged her shoulders and retreated to her own room, to finish her toilet. She had found that the best way to silence Miss Thomas, was to let her alone. But Belle was not quite so forbearing.

"I wonder who started the idle gossipping conjectures," said she quite loudly enough to be heard by the retreating teacher. "No one would have dreamed of Delia's having run away, if Miss Thomas had not said so."

"It is queer, though," said Almira Crosby. "How did she come to be over there without any one's knowing it?"

"Easy enough," replied Belle. "She rooms alone, and not feeling well, she probably dressed herself, and went over to Mrs. Pomeroy's room for some medicine, and Mrs. Pomeroy kept her."

"She has not seemed like herself for a good while," remarked Annette. "She has grown so nervous. I have noticed how she changes color when she gives in her exercise, and you know we did not used to think she cared for any such thing."

"There is something wrong about those exercises," said Almira. "I have never felt satisfied about that matter."

"Oh, Almira!" exclaimed Janet, who had appeared again upon the scene, when Miss Thomas had departed. "What a vacuum your head must be! If you get a notion into it, it buzzes there like a bee in an empty cask. It seems to me that I would stuff it with something, if it were only to stop the echo. No one but yourself sees anything wonderful in the matter at all, and I had forgotten it long ago."

"Very likely," returned Almira, no-ways abashed by the ridicule, to which indeed she was pretty well accustomed. "But I don't forget a thing when once I hear it."

"Don't you?" said Belle. "In what year was the English revolution? You hear that often enough."

"In 1492," retorted Almira triumphantly. "You didn't catch me that time, Miss Faushane!"

"Well, I don't know," said Belle. "I should rather think I did."

"I don't care!" returned Almira. "I remember some things, if I don't recollect dates."

"Such as French verbs, and rules in Arithmetic, I suppose. But come there is the breakfast bell."

Mrs. Pomeroy appeared at the breakfast table, serene as usual, and no one was missing but Delia. Emily had been gone so long, that the girls had ceased to look for her. Towards the end of the meal, Mrs. Pomeroy tapped with her spoon upon the urn before her, and the girls were all attention in a moment. Mrs. Pomeroy spoke with her usual deliberation.

"I wish to say to the young ladies, that some of them must come to my bed-room to-day, upon any pretext whatever, but must apply to Miss Gilbert who will supply any thing that may be necessary. Miss Mason is quite ill, and it is necessary that she should be kept perfectly quiet. I am sure your own good feeling will lead you to make as little noise as possible in going back and forth to your lessons. There will be no recitations in French this morning, and the young ladies will study in the school-room during that hour. You are excused."

"There, I knew there was something queer," said Almira, exultingly. "I knew that Mr. Hugo was mixed up in it somehow. What is he away for to-day, if it is not so?"

"Perhaps he has shot himself!" said Janet, bravely.

"Or lost, or accidentally mislaid himself," added Lucy, taking up the ball.

"Or lost his boots—or broken his bottle of hair-dye—or got a black eye—" continued Belle, coming nearer to the truth than she imagined in this last suggestion. "Send down some one with your compliments, and inquire."

"I don't care," said Almira, sulkily, "I will find out all about it, yet,—see if I don't, if I have to listen at the door."

"There will be no occasion to see if you don't, since we shall all be sure to hear if you do," said Belle. "But I advise you not to let Mrs. Pomeroy catch you listening. She does not admire the pursuit of knowledge under such circumstances."

Delia slept till nine o'clock, and awoke so much refreshed and composed, that Mrs. Pomeroy no longer feared to question her on the events of the past night. She concealed nothing, but related the whole affair from the very beginning at the Classical Gymnasium; where the correspondence commenced, to its close, screening Emily as much as possible, and taking the whole blame upon herself.

"But I do not understand, Emily, why you did not refuse to have any participation in the matter," said Mrs. Pomeroy. "You might at least have done that, if your false ideas of honor and friendship prevented you from revealing the secret. It was not what I would have expected from you. I had a good deal of confidence in your good principles."

"Your confidence was sadly misplaced," said poor Emily. "I had a secret of my own, even worse than Delia's." She felt that the time had come for her to lay down the burden which had weighed on her so long, and with many tears, she confessed all her faults from that first one of making "a bill at the store," to the last and most disgraceful ending.

Mrs. Pomeroy was excessively shocked. She had never dreamed of such a thing as that the money should have been taken by one of the young ladies, and she could hardly believe her ears when she heard that such was the case.

Emily concluded by saying, "Ever since I was sick, I have made up my mind to confess at all hazards, and I was only waiting to have one more talk with Delia to try and persuade her to join me. I am ready to tell the story before the whole school, if you wish me to do so."

"There would be no good, but a great deal of harm in that," replied Mrs. Pomeroy. "The whole matter has died away now, and there is no use in recalling it. I think it will be necessary to tell Kitty, but we can rely upon her discretion as much as if she were fifty years old. The poor child will be terribly shocked, for she almost worshipped you, Emily."

"I have been thinking," said Emily in a low voice, "that I ought to write and tell my father."

"There is some good in her yet," thought Mrs. Pomeroy, "or she would never propose such a step of her own accord." "You are quite right in thinking so," she said aloud. "It is one of the best proofs you can give of your sincere repentance."

"And my father," said Delia anxiously, "what about him?"

"I have written to him and your mother to come here," replied Mrs. Pomeroy, "and I shall expect them to-morrow morning. We must consult together what is best to be done. I cannot now arrive at any decision, and till I do so, I wish neither of you to leave this room on any pretext whatever, nor shall I allow you to see any one. You must not complain if I treat you altogether as culprits till you have shown yourselves worthy of confidence."

There was a violent ring at the door as she spoke, and a few minutes afterward, a servant appeared and informed Mrs. Pomeroy that Mr. Hugo was below, and desired to see Miss Mason immediately.

Delia turned pale.

"Oh, Mrs. Pomeroy, I cannot see him. Don't let him come near me!"

"Fear nothing, my child. He shall not harm you, if I can help it. I only wonder at his insolence in presenting himself here at all."

She stopped a moment to put her cap to rights, for in no emergency was she seen with any part of her dress in disorder, and descended to the drawing room, which was directly under her own apartments.

The girls sat clasped in each other's arms, Delia trembling and terrified, listening to the angry voice which made itself heard through the floor, and offered a striking contrast to Mr. Fletcher's deep and composed tones. Leaving them to comfort each other, we will follow Mrs. Pomeroy to the drawing room.

Mr. Hugo was walking up and down the long apartment, raging like a wild beast, his appearance not improved by his black eye, or the loss of his moustache, which he had been obliged to sacrifice, being quite unable to clean it from the tenacious clay which it had contracted in his fall. Mr. Fletcher stood by the fire-side, quietly regarding him with his dark, bright eyes, but showing no signs of disturbance. Mr. Hugo turned round as Mrs. Pomeroy entered.

"To what am I indebted for the unexpected honor of seeing Madame?" he inquired, with sarcastic politeness. "If my memory serves me, I inquired for Miss Mason, alone."

"When visitors inquire for my young ladies, I am accustomed to receive them myself," was the quiet reply. "Miss Mason is at present quite too unwell to see any one, and she requests me to say, that neither now, nor at any other time, does she wish to receive visits from Mr. Hugo. I must add, that owing to recent events, I must decline any further attendance from you at this establishment."

"Which I have degraded myself ever to have entered—" burst forth Mr. Hugo. "But upon what pretext does Miss Mason deny my visits?"

"I am not aware that any pretext is necessary, but if it were, I have forbidden her to leave her room till her father arrives, nor, I may add, has she any wish to do so. She has related to me the whole story of her acquaintance, from the beginning, and I have her authority not only for refusing any further correspondence, but also for returning your presents, and requesting the return of her letters."

"Which, nevertheless, I shall take the liberty of retaining," said Mr. Hugo, with his peculiar smile. "These same letters will make a pretty little romance, which will, no doubt, be pleasing to the friends of Miss Mason and Miss Arlington, and add greatly to the reputation of Mrs. Pomeroy's school, as showing the care which is taken of the young ladies' morals at that establishment."

This was touching Mrs. Pomeroy upon a tender point. As Delia had once remarked, she valued the reputation of her school above all things, and it had hitherto been above a breath of reproach. She cast a glance of some alarm at Mr. Fletcher, which Mr. Hugo perceived, and fancying that he had gained an advantage, he pursued it.

"Very pretty documents are these same letters, and when they are properly arranged, and accompanied with some account of moonlight walks, and meetings in the back rooms of confectionary shops, and so forth, they will make a nice story for some of the daily prints. Your respectable pension will derive additional lustre from the fact of its having been the scene of such a transaction, and I shall put a pretty little sum in my pocket. This will be some compensation for the loss of the fortune of Miss Delia, who, as the heroine of this romance, will confer honor on her family name. Monsieur says nothing," he added, turning from Mrs. Pomeroy to Mr. Fletcher. "Possibly he is struck dumb with astonishment!"

"Not at all!" replied Mr. Fletcher. "I always believed you to be a consummate rascal, from the first moment I saw you. I suppose the plain English of all this rodomontade is, that you want to be paid for suppressing the letters. If that is your object, you would do better to state it directly."

"Monsieur is very quick-sighted," said Mr. Hugo, with a grin. "You must be aware that the publication of these letters will irrecoverably injure the young lady. Notwithstanding the way in which she has treated me, I have a disinterested regard for her—"

"We will dispense with any reference to your regard," interrupted Mr. Fletcher, "which might have been somewhat modified, had you been acquainted with the fact that the young lady's fortune is wholly forfeited if she marries without her father's consent, before she comes of age."

"The traitress!" exclaimed Mr. Hugo. "She never told me that. However, it is no reason why I should not make my profit off these documents."

At this juncture, Mr. Fletcher was called out of the room. He remained about some five minutes, during which time Mr. Hugo walked up and down, examining the pictures, and commenting upon them in a way which told a good deal for his knowledge of arts, and still more for his powers of impudence, while Mrs. Pomeroy sat on thorns, afraid lest someone should come in, and wondering what could detain Mr. Fletcher.

Presently he returned. He did not, however, resume his former place but remained standing by the door, with his hands behind him, and a curious smile on his face, which Mrs. Pomeroy could not exactly understand.

"Well sir!" said he. "Have you made up your mind how much to ask for these same documents?"

"Ah! That is coming to the point," said Mr. Hugo. "I have no desire to be exorbitant, out I am, at this moment, in want of money to return to France. I should think that a thousand dollars from the young lady's father, and another thousand from Madame here, would content me—for the present."

Mrs. Pomeroy opened her eyes in amazement.

Mr. Fletcher said quietly:

"And suppose we pay this sum, what security have we that you will perform your part of the engagement?"

"The honor of a Frenchman, Monsieur!" said Mr. Hugo, drawing himself up in a magnificent manner.

Mr. Fletcher laughed outright. "I am afraid you would hardly get a note discounted upon that security," said he. "I think your terms high, and as I hold the documents in my possession, at this moment, I must beg leave respectfully to decline the bargain."

He brought his right hand from behind him as he spoke, and displayed a large bundle of papers, arranged and filed in a manner which did credit to Mr. Hugo's business habits. Mrs. Pomeroy uttered an exclamation of joy, and Mr. Hugo seemed for a moment as though he were about to spring upon Mr. Fletcher like a wild cat. He restrained himself; however, and said grimly through his teeth:—

"You search gentlemen's rooms, do you?"

"No," replied Mr. Fletcher, "but there are those who render that service to such honorable gentlemen as yourself!"

He tapped the door slightly as he spoke. It opened on the instant, and in walked two stout professional looking men, of decidedly determined aspect, followed by Mr. Hugo's old acquaintance, Mr. Brown, the baggage master.

At the sight of the foremost man, Mr. Hugo turned ghastly pale: all his assurance seemed to desert him—he looked helplessly round as though searching in vain for some way of escape, and then dropped into a chair; as the officer, for such he was, walked up to him and laid his hand on his shoulder, he seemed to collapse and shrink into himself, and Mrs. Pomeroy looked to see him disappear altogether.

"Excuse me, madam," said the officer, politely addressing Mrs. Pomeroy. "It becomes my duty to arrest this person for forgery and bank robbery committed at New Orleans, some time since. We have been for a long time upon his track, and only heard of his whereabouts a short time ago. I understand he has been acting as teacher in your establishment, and elsewhere, under the assumed name of Emile Hugo."

"It is true," replied Mrs. Pomeroy, recovering a little from her first surprise. "My eyes have been but just now opened to his true character."

"It is well that they are so," said the officer. "From what I gathered from the papers found in his apartment, I should imagine that he had been endeavoring to draw some young lady under your charge into a clandestine marriage. Had he succeeded, he would have been liable to a prosecution for bigamy, as he has a wife now living in New Orleans."

"My poor Delia!" exclaimed Mrs. Pomeroy, quite thrown off her balance by this new proof of villainy. "From what a fate have you been saved?"

"Mr. Fletcher, to whom we are indebted for the information which led to Mr. Bruce's apprehension," continued the last speaker, "has informed me that the prisoner had an idea of extorting money from the young lady's friends, by means of those letters, which I thought proper to deliver to him. As you may have some fears on this point, I take pleasure in informing you that neither you, nor the lady in question, need entertain any apprehension, as the proof against him will be more than sufficient to send him to finish his days in the State prison."

He produced a pair of hand-cuffs, as he spoke, and in a few minutes the wretched man had taken his departure between his two guards. We have only to add, that the officers' prediction was fulfilled, and the accomplished Mr. Hugo now dresses stone in the State prison.

Mr. Brown lingered a moment, to talk the matter over with Mr. Fletcher.

"Well!" said he. "The fellow is well disposed of. The officers came on the morning train—the very one he would have taken, if it had been in time. I knew who they were the moment I saw them, and something, I don't know what, gave me a guess of who they might be after—so I stepped up and asked them if it was a Frenchman they were looking for. They said yes, and I described the man who was in the office last night with the girl. That was their customer, they said, and asked me to go with them. We went to his boarding-house first, and there saw these letters lying on the table. I hinted to them that he had been trying to run off with one of the Seminary girls, and told them to bring the letters along, intending to hand them to you or Mrs. Pomeroy."

"Thank you, very much," said Mr. Fletcher. "For the poor girl's sake, I must ask you not to mention what happened last night, as we want to keep the affair quiet, if possible."

Mr. Brown's tawny moustache twitched a little. "I had a daughter of my own, about that poor girl's age, Mr. Fletcher. She was a good girl, and has gone to a better place than this—but I know how I should have felt if any rascal had tried to serve her so. I am not what I should be, but I've got a father's feelings, and no one will ever know a word from me!"

"You are a good fellow, Brown," said Mr. Fletcher, grasping his hand. "But hav'nt you another daughter? I think I have seen a little girl with you sometimes."

"Yes," replied Mr. Brown, surprised at the question—"Why?"

"I want you to send her up here to school, and let me educate her," was the reply. "I am sure she will be an honor to the establishment, and both Mrs. Pomeroy and myself shall consider her education but a small return for the service you have rendered us in this unhappy affair."

"Pray do so, Mr. Brown," added Mrs. Pomeroy. "I assure you, she shall be cared for, as if she were my own daughter."

"I don't want any return," said Mr. Brown, a little gruffly. "I did as I would be done by, and that's enough. At the same time, I have no right to refuse such an opportunity for the girl, who is a good one, if I say it myself. I am much obliged to you, ma'am, and since you are so kind, I shall send her to you to-morrow."

We will not attempt any description of Delia's feelings, when she was informed by Mrs. Pomeroy of the events that had transpired in the parlor. It would be hard to tell whether she were more horror-struck at the danger to which she had been exposed, or thankful for her escape. Mrs. Pomeroy had a long conversation with her, and was fully convinced of the reality of her repentance.

"There are your letters," she said in conclusion, putting the parcel into her hands, "and the only penance I shall at present impose upon you, is, that of reading them through from first to last, before you commit them to the flames."

We have but one more incident to record of this most eventful day, and that is an adventure of Miss Almira Crosby's in the pursuit of knowledge. Pursuant to the declaration she had made in the morning, she had been watching and peeping all day, but she had ascertained nothing beyond the fact that Mr. Hugo had called, and that he had gone away in company with several other persons; and that Delia and Emily were together in Mrs. Pomeroy's room.

At last an opportunity presented itself which was too good to be lost. Mrs. Pomeroy's dressing room opened upon a kind of upper piazza or balcony, which was accessible by a flight of steps from below. This door was seldom opened in winter, but as Almira was passing to and fro upon the walk, trying at least to catch a glimpse of some one passing the window, she suddenly perceived that the door was ajar. Her resolution was instantly formed. She slipped off her shoes, and putting them in her pocket, she stole softly up the stairs, and applied her ear the door.

All was still at first. There seemed to be no one in the dressing room, but he heard a murmur of voices beyond, and as her ear grew accustomed to the sound, she could easily distinguish the words. She heard Mrs. Pomeroy say, "Are you prepared—"

She listened eagerly for the remainder of the sentence, placing her head still closer to the door, when alas! A gush of wind came round the corner—the door slammed violently and suddenly, and poor Almira found herself a prisoner, held fast by the whole of one side of her long ringlets, which had been caught by the closing door so close to her head, that it was a marvel her ear had not shared the same fate.

Here was a dilemma! What was to be done? She could not open the door, which had no handle on the outside. Mrs. Pomeroy might come out of the bed-room and find her there at any moment, or some of the girls might come round the corner. There was but one way. Luckily she had a pair of scissors in her pocket; she drew them forth, and in another moment she was at liberty, but at the expense of one whole side of her ringlets, which she was obliged to leave hanging in the door. It was not till she had succeeded in escaping unseen to her room, and looked in the glass, that the whole extent of her misfortune burst upon her, and she saw that the other side must needs share the fate of its fellow. She burst into tears, but there was no remedy, and reluctantly she applied the scissors once more, laying each severed curl carefully and mournfully away.

"What in the world have you been doing to yourself, Almira?" exclaimed Annette, opening her eyes in amazement, as Almira came out of her room when the tea bell rang.

"I have cut off my hair," replied Almira, trying to put a good face upon the matter. "It was altogether too much trouble, and took too much of my time."

"But you need not have cut it so short," said Annette. "Why didn't you just brush it back plain. You look like a picked chicken."

"I made a mistake," replied Almira.

"Never mind, it will soon grow again," said Belle, consolingly, seeing that Almira looked annoyed. "She will come to something, after all," she continued to Janet, as they went down stairs together. "I shall have some hope of her, now that she has got rid of those curls. Poor thing, what a struggle it must have cost her."

"Those same ringlets never went for nothing," replied the Queen of Sheba, who in her office of monitress had been more than usually disturbed by Almira's carelessness and laziness during the day. "I should not be surprised if we should hear something more about them before long."

So it turned out. In her distress at her loss, it had never occurred to Almira that she was leaving behind her a token of her presence, which could not fail to be recognized.

Mrs. Pomeroy, coming out of her bed-room, had seen the unlucky ringlets hanging in the door, and at once divined how they came there. For more than a year, she had been trying by all sorts of gentle means, to break Almira of her habit of eaves-dropping, and prying into the concerns of others, but without the least success, and she now determined to try the effect of another course. Taking the locks in her hand, she descended to the tea-table, and at the end of the meal, the usual signal announced a speech from the throne.

"Has any young lady lost any thing?" asked Mrs. Pomeroy.

There was silence, but one or two glanced significantly at poor Almira, whose cheeks began to burn.

"These curls were found hanging in the outside door to my dressing room," continued Mrs. Pomeroy, holding them up in full view of the assembled family. "I cannot, of course, imagine how they should have come there, unless, indeed, some one has been listening at the door, but if they belong to any young lady in the establishment, she can have them returned, by calling at my room and proving her property."