upside down, its mouth protruding from the transom. There was a splash, a quick exclamation, and then a stern command.

"Open this door, or I shall send for the principal."

Sarah moved but slowly, not from choice now, but from fright. A terrible, unbelievable suspicion entered her mind. It seemed that her hand would never be able to turn the key in the door, that strong little hand, which lifted so easily the great, brimming pitcher. If it had been the teacher who lived downstairs, the cross teacher with the flowered dressing-gown, she could have endured it. If it had been the principal himself, it would not have been so terrible. But standing on the threshold, wiping the water from her eyes, and with dripping hair and soaking shirt-waist, stood Miss Ellingwood.