"I am afraid, Miss Burrell," said Mrs. Livingston, "that you have lost the 'honor' for this season. This consomme seems to be a dismal failure. This of course does not preclude you from taking up some other branch of cookery and winning an 'honor'."

Harriet was on the verge of tears, but she held herself under good control. Her humiliation was apparent only in her flaming cheeks and almost imperceptible beads of perspiration that stood out on her forehead.

"This is a matter that must be looked into, Harriet," said the Chief Guardian. "Young ladies, eat no more of the soup. There is something seriously wrong with it. It tastes like soap to me, too; I am free to admit that. I hope no one has been playing pranks," fixing a keen glance on Harriet's face.

"Oh, Mrs. Livingston," cried Harriet, shocked almost beyond words.

"I am not accusing you of any such thing, my dear," explained the Chief Guardian. "You would be unlikely to play pranks and lose your 'honor'

mark. The guardians will please accompany me to the kitchen. Young ladies, you will proceed with your dinner. Upon second thought, Miss Partridge and Miss Elting will accompany me. The other guardians may remain here."

Mrs. Livingston rose, as did the two teachers whom she had named. A heavy silence settled over the cook tent after the three women had disappeared into the kitchen, a small tent at the rear of the cook tent. They were gone for some time. Finally, Mrs. Livingston and Miss Partridge returned.

Miss Elting was not with them. The Chief Guardian's face wore an expression of sternness such as none of the girls ever had observed there before.

Harriet appeared wholly to have lost her appetite. She was making a brave effort to eat, but the food choked her. The meal was finished in silence.

At the conclusion of the meal, Mrs. Livingston rose and requested the girls to come to order.

"Young ladies," she began, "a most serious thing has occurred. I make no accusations. Miss Burrell, where is the key to your supply box?"

"I hung it on a nail on the outside of the tent pole just behind my work table, Mrs. Livingston."

The Chief Guardian turned to Miss Partridge.

"Do you mind bringing Miss Burrell's key and box, Miss Partridge?" she asked. The young guardian rose promptly and left the tent. A few moments later, she returned bearing a galvanized box, slightly larger than a baking powder case. This she placed on the table before the Chief Guardian, laying a key beside it. Harriet saw that the box was hers, but she did not know why it had been brought to the tent.

Mrs. Livingston unlocked the supply box, then tilting it so that the light from the hanging lamp nearby shone into the box, she peered in. Harriet saw her grope in the box, saw her withdraw some small object and examine it in the palm of her hand amid a breathless silence. Then the Chief Guardian raised her eyes, fixing them on Harriet Burrell with an inquiring, sorrowful gaze.

CHAPTER XVIII

AN "HONOR" FAIRLY LOST

"Miss Burrell," began the Chief Guardian in an impressive voice, "I find that a serious offense has been committed, an offense that cannot be overlooked. A prank is allowable within reasonable limits, but any such trick as this borders on the disgraceful."

"Wha-at do you mean, Mrs. Livingston?" questioned Harriet.

"We have examined the pot in which the soup was made. We have, after careful examination, decided what it is that gives the consomme the peculiar flavor that you all have noticed."

Harriet listened with an expression of grave concern. She forgot in the interest she felt in what the Chief Guardian was about to say, her own humiliation at having lost the "honor" she had so nearly earned.

"We came to the conclusion that nothing but soap could give the soup the peculiar flavor that makes it so unpalatable. Then again we observed little beads floating on the surface," continued Mrs. Livingston. "While attractive to look at these were very disagreeable to the taste for they were soap bubbles. However, an entirely different complexion has been placed on the matter since my examination of your box before me on the table. Miss Burrell, I find in this box a small piece of castile soap from which some shavings have been left in the box and on the paring knife with which the soap was shaved off."

"Soap in my kit?" cried Harriet, rising slowly to her feet.

"Yes."

"But--why--what is it doing there?" gasped the astonished girl.

"That is what we should like to know. No one had access to your kit except yourself. The box was locked and the key hung where you placed it when you last had occasion to close the box."

"Yes, yes, but----"

"We also found flakes of soap scattered about on the floor in the kitchen.

I slipped on a shaving of it and nearly fell just now when I visited the kitchen. Did you have any soap in your kit?"

"Certainly not, Mrs. Livingston."

"Then how did it come to be there just now when I opened the box?"

"Oh, I don't know," answered Harriet despairingly. "But surely, Mrs.

Livingston, you do not accuse me of anything so dreadful as mixing soap with the consomme? Oh, you don't mean that; you can't mean it?"

"While I am not by any means accusing you, the facts on the face of the affair speak for themselves, and----"

The Chief Guardian was interrupted by the sudden springing to her feet of Crazy Jane. Her face was flushed; her hair was disarranged her arms were raised above her head.

[Illustration: "Oh, Shame On All of You!" Cried Jane.]

"Oh, shame on all of you!" cried the girl. "My darlin' Harriet wouldn't do such a thing. Never! Show me the one who did it, knowing that the darlin'

girl would be accused. I'll scratch her eyes out, I will!"

Jane was in a towering rage. The calm voice of Mrs. Livingston interrupted the tirade.

"Miss McCarthy, be good enough to resume your seat," she said.

Jane hesitated. For a few perilous seconds she struggled with herself. The girls expected an outbreak more vehement than her first. Instead, Jane sat down with an emphasis that jarred the dishes on the table.

"We will now continue with this matter. Can any person here explain, first how the consomme happens to be soaped, and secondly why soap is found in Miss Burrell's kit?" questioned Mrs. Livingston.

A painful silence reigned in the cook tent. There seemed to be no explanation of the mystery.

"There was nothing of the sort in the box when last I used it," reiterated Harriet, "I am positive of that, Mrs. Livingston. Nor could it have been at the bottom of the box under the other things. Knowing that I had finished my work in the soup test, I examined the contents of the box to put everything in order."

"You locked the box afterwards?"

"Immediately. I hung the key in its accustomed place, too."

"You have no idea when the soap was dropped into the soup kettle?"

"No. But wait! Just before I came into the cook tent to sit down I tasted the soup, as I had done a dozen times before while in the kitchen to make sure that it was exactly as it should be."

"Did you taste it just before you came in to dinner? Did you detect anything wrong with it, Miss Burrell?"

"There was nothing wrong with it then. I mean--you know what I mean.

There was none of this soapy taste in it at all. To me it tasted delicious. The first I realized that something had happened to the consomme, was when I took a spoonful of it at the table here. Then I knew something was wrong with it. That is all I can tell you. But you must know that I would not do a thing like that, Mrs. Livingston. Please don't say that you think I might be guilty of any such thing. Do you think I would spoil my chance of winning an 'honor' for the sake of playing a contemptible trick?"

"No, Harriet, I do not think you would," decided Mrs. Livingston after gazing steadily into the troubled eyes of Harriet Burrell for a moment.