parley. Mrs. Miller, anxious for her pet, hastened to seek it elsewhere.
In the hall she met one of the housemaids.

"Susan," she said, "have you seen Gracchus?"

"He's asleep on the hearthrug in your room, ma'am. But I heard him
crying down here a moment ago. I feel sure that another cat has got in,
and that they are fighting."

Susan smiled compassionately. "Lor' bless you, ma'am," she said, "that
was Miss Wylie. It's a sort of play-acting that she goes through. There
is the bee on the window-pane, and the soldier up the chimley, and the
cat under the dresser. She does them all like life."

"The soldier in the chimney!" repeated Mrs. Miller, shocked.

"Yes, ma'am. Like as it were a follower that had hid there when he heard
the mistress coming."

Mrs. Miller's face set determinedly. She returned to the study and
related what had just occurred, adding some sarcastic comments on the
efficacy of moral force in maintaining collegiate discipline. Miss
Wilson looked grave; considered for some time; and at last said: "I must
think over this. Would you mind leaving it in my hands for the present?"

Mrs. Miller said that she did not care in whose hands it remained
provided her own were washed of it, and resumed her work at the papers.
Miss Wilson then, wishing to be alone, went into the empty classroom at
the other side of the landing. She took the Fault Book from its shelf
and sat down before it. Its record closed with the announcement, in