"Yes, Agatha; I do not think it is too much to expect you to be always
sensible; and--"

"Then you have neither sense nor sympathy yourself," said Agatha.

There was an awful pause. Neither could have told how long it lasted.
Then Agatha, feeling that she must do or say something desperate, or
else fly, made a distracted gesture and ran out of the room.

She rejoined her companions in the great hall of the mansion, where
they were assembled after study for "recreation," a noisy process which
always set in spontaneously when the professors withdrew. She usually
sat with her two favorite associates on a high window seat near the
hearth. That place was now occupied by a little girl with flaxen hair,
whom Agatha, regardless of moral force, lifted by the shoulders and
deposited on the floor. Then she sat down and said:

"Oh, such a piece of news!"

Miss Carpenter opened her eyes eagerly. Gertrude Lindsay affected
indifference.

"Someone is going to be expelled," said Agatha.

"Expelled! Who?"

"You will know soon enough, Jane," replied Agatha, suddenly grave. "It
is someone who made an impudent entry in the Recording Angel."