As the week progressed, the school considered itself more and more ill-used. The fact was that the Reverend T. W. Beasley was accustomed to university students, and could not focus his mind to the intellectual range of girls of thirteen to seventeen. Moreover, he was by nature a reformer. He liked to give others the benefit of his advice, and he had much to say in private to his sister upon the subject of her pupils' lessons and general management. Perhaps poor Miss Beasley had not expected quite so much criticism. She was accustomed, nevertheless, to defer to her brother's opinions, and she listened with due humility, though with much inward perturbation, while he laid down the law upon the education of women. Miss Gibbs, who was a born fighter, was inclined to argue--a disastrous policy, which so nearly ended in what are generally termed "words," that her Principal was obliged to ask her (privately) to allow the visitor to state his views uninterrupted.
The school was so taken up with the stern business on hand, that such delights as coon concerts and theatricals were quite in the background. On Thursday afternoon, however, Veronica sought out Raymonde.
"I want your money for the Blinded Soldiers' Fund," she said. "I've given in ours, and so have the juniors. Miss Beasley says when she has it all she'll write a cheque for the amount, and send it to the secretary."
"But Miss Beasley has our money already," objected Raymonde. "Don't you remember? She said she wanted some change, and you came and asked me for it."
"So I did, and brought you back notes instead."
"What nonsense, Ray! You know I brought them," protested Veronica indignantly. "You were practising, and I said: 'Don't stop, I'll put them inside your drawer.' Hermie was with me at the time."
A conscious look spread over Raymonde's face. She blushed hotly.
"Of course it was Friday. The notes must be in your drawer. Have you the key? Then come along, and we'll go and find them."
Raymonde unwillingly followed Veronica upstairs. Her manner was embarrassed in the extreme. She unlocked her drawer in the bureau, and turned out the possessions she had there, but no notes were among them.
"What's become of them?" demanded Veronica sharply.