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"Lots of time for it," said Patricia, yawning and flinging herself down on the wide couch. "The men aren't through in there for more than an hour yet." "No, indeed!" cried Patricia. "It's sweet of them to like it!" "But," insisted Elinor, "we haven't anything——".

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"Then let her see the police, sir, although I don't agree with you. She is not the woman to put a rope round her own neck--black as it is." "To shield the assassin?" gasped Jen, thunderstruck. "And who is the assassin?" Patricia held Judith close, with her own heart beating tumultuously to the rhythm of the storm. Hard rattling drops castinetted at the glass, beating an accompaniment to the roar of the racing clouds. For a moment all was black, then, as the whirling cloud masses swept apart, the pelting drops lulled and a gray twilight full of ominous murmurs filled the place. Before Patricia could frame the swift thought that the storm was passing, darkness swept over them again, and the fierce scream of the relentless wind tore at the corners of the barn. The rain beat, deluged, engulfed the out-of-doors; it drummed gayly with diminishing ferocity; then it roared sullenly, flooding the rain spouts to bursting; it raged again, with the scream of the wind growing higher, and snapping branches flung themselves past the gray squares of the windows, flying leaves pasted wet green blurs on the streaming glass. Judith shuddered. "He's all of that. He's the youngest professor in the school and no end a good fellow," supplemented Tom Hughes, heartily..