Mary Louise considered whether to confide the fact of her going to Miss
Stearne or to depart without a word of adieu. In the latter case she
would forfeit her trunk and her pretty clothes, which she did not wish
to do unless it proved absolutely necessary; and, after all, she
decided, frankness was best. Gran'pa Jim had often said that what one
could not do openly should not be done at all. There was nothing to be
ashamed of in her resolve to leave the school where she was so unhappy.
The girls did not want her there and she did not want to stay; the
school would be relieved of a disturbing element and Mary Louise would
be relieved of unjust persecution; no blame attached to any but those
who had made public this vile slander against her grandfather. From all
viewpoints she considered she was doing the right thing; so, when her
preparations were complete, she went to Miss Stearne's room, although it
was now after eight o'clock in the evening, and requested an interview.

"I am going away," she quietly announced to the principal.

"Going away! But where?" asked the astonished teacher.

"I cannot tell you that, Miss Stearne."

"Do you not know?"

"Yes, I know, but I prefer not to tell you."

Miss Stearne was greatly annoyed. She was also perplexed. The fact that
Mary Louise was deserting her school did not seem so important, at the
moment, as the danger involved by a young girl's going out into the
world unprotected. The good woman had already been rendered very nervous
by the dreadful accusation of Colonel Weatherby and the consequent