“I know mighty well who it is,” declared Dorothy, “and if this keeps up I shall tell, so I shall.”
It did keep up till one morning the climax was reached when Miss Newman came into her school-room to find on the board a very good caricature of herself, with under it written: “Ugly, old Miss New,” in scrawling letters. Clara came into the school-room late, and slipped into her seat after the exercises had begun. Miss Newman left the drawing on the board and made no reference to it, using a smaller board for what was necessary. She was far less attractive than Miss Ashurst, and had a dry little way with her, which many of the girls thought oldmaidish, but she was a good teacher, if not a very beautiful one. When the girls returned from recess, in place of Miss Newman at the desk stood Mr. Horner, his eyes fairly snapping with indignation, and his eyebrows looking fiercer than ever.
“Oh,” whispered Dorothy, as she sank down into her seat by Edna’s side. The rest of the girls looked pale and awe-stricken. Never before had they any recollection of Mr. Horner’s coming into the room. Offenders were sometimes sent to him in the larger room, but this was a new experience.
There was complete silence, while Mr. Horner looked from one to the other as if he would search their very hearts. Some of the girls returned his gaze pleadingly, some dropped their heads, Clara Adams, with a little smile of indifference, began to play with her pencil. Mr. Horner glared at her. “Put that down!” he said, and she dropped it, though still wearing her impertinent little smile. “I wish to know,” said Mr. Horner, “who was the first to arrive in this room this morning?”
“I was the last,” spoke up Clara.
“You were not asked that,” said Mr. Horner, turning upon her.
After quite a silence, Margaret arose. “I think I was the first, Mr. Horner,” she said, and then sat down again.
“There was no one in the room when you came?”
“No, Mr. Horner.”
“And was this on the board?” He pointed to the drawing.