“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.

Harriet caught her breath sharply.

“It ith a mean thhame,” declared Tommy in a voice that reached every person in the tent.  “I gueth the banshee mutht have done it.”

A chorus of giggles greeted this sally.  The laughter was suppressed by the Chief Guardian.

“We will leave the mystery of the doctored soup as it stands until after breakfast to-morrow morning,” announced Mrs. Livingston.  “After that, if the guilty girl makes no confession in the meantime, we shall begin an investigation of our own.”

The Chief Guardian rose, the girls doing likewise, after which they filed out of the tent.  Once outside they began to talk excitedly.  Most of them took sides with Harriet Burrell.  They did not believe she could have been guilty of such a trick.  Besides, she would be defeating her own ambitions if she did do so.  She was certain to lose the coveted “honor.”  Despite this, however, there were those who did believe that Harriet had put soap in the consomme.

It had been an evening full of excitement and unexpected happenings.  And now Harriet Burrell would not have another opportunity to win her “honor” in this line until three months had passed.

Harriet’s face was stony as she fled to her tent.  Jane McCarthy reached the tent a few minutes behind her friend.  Jane threw her arms about Harriet, expressing her opinion of the whole affair in her own hot-headed way.  Harriet’s eyes were dry but her cheeks were hot.  She was holding herself well in hand, yet when she spoke there was a slight quaver in her voice.  She was not a girl given to tears.

“I don’t care for the ‘honor’ so much,” Harriet said, “but I just can’t stand it to have the girls believing deep down in their hearts that I could have done that awful thing.  They will say it; at least some of them will.”

“I dare them to!” flamed Jane.  “Just let me hear them.  Oh, just let me hear one girl saying a word about Harriet Burrell.  Oh!”

“I don’t want you to mix in this trouble at all, Jane,” objected Harriet.  “It is bad enough as it is.  If I could find out who the guilty one is——­”

“What would you do if you did find out?” demanded Jane.