demanded next. "I am her secretary and try to save her work whenever
possible. Perhaps I can answer your question."

Behind Miss Prettyman's narrow back Betty signaled wildly.

"Don't tell--hush!" she wig-wagged, laying her finger against her lips.

Tommy stared at her idiotically, his mouth gaping.

"Thank you, but only Mrs. Eustice could really give us an answer," said
Bob, coming to the rescue of his stricken chum. "Betty, will you deliver
our message and perhaps you can telephone the answer?"

"No Shadyside girl is allowed to telephone Salsette Academy," announced
Miss Prettyman, with grim satisfaction.

Betty had not known of this rule, but she realized it was undoubtedly in
existence.

"We'll let you know some way," she promised.

Still pursued by Miss Prettyman's icy glare, the wretched boys backed out
of the room and the unfortunate Tommy walked into a handsome china
jardiniere with disastrous results. There was a sickening crash, a
ladylike scream from Miss Prettyman, and Betty heard Bob's voice in a
tone of suppressed fury: "You've done it now, you idiot!"

Bobby giggled, of course, but Miss Prettyman, who had followed the boys
into the hall ("I think she thought we'd steal something on the way out,"
Bob confided later to Betty) maintained her poise.