Mr. Macnair entered the room and Orinda's heart went all aflutter. He said her name-- well, her last name-- and a happy sigh escaped her lips. He was there. He'd gotten her notes. But then he said he'd dock points from her for being out of her room. "Wait, what?" she blurted, taking a step forward. "I thought you were here because of my notes!"

Walking closer to the stairs leading up to the boys' dormitories, Orinda's face fell as she realized that the object of her affections hadn't even read the notes she had sent him. "Oh," she said quietly, staring up at him with despair. "You didn't even read them, did you? I poured my heart out in those notes and you didn't even read them. Why are you here, Mr. Macnair? Why did you even bother coming down here if you weren't interested in who had sent them? Did you think they were from Miss Scrimgeour? Is that why you came? She couldn't have gotten in here, you know. Or maybe they were from someone else, someone who is taller, older, prettier?" Tears welled up in her eyes as she stared at the older boy on the stairs.