"Qui s'excuse s'accuse!" returned Lorraine bitterly. "I'm afraid it's only too plain."
"But do let me try to find out! Don't be in such a dreadful hurry! Wait a bit!"
"What's the use of waiting? It had better be done now!"
And Lorraine, with a firm hand, drew a thick ink line through the name of Monica Forrester.
All through afternoon school Lorraine's head was in a whirl. The fact that Monica was her sister made her the more ready to punish her severely. No one should say that she showed favour to her own family. After the crusade she had made for discipline, it was necessary to be stern. And yet—Monica! She could not credit the child with telling a lie. Naughty and wilful she had often been, but deceitful and untruthful never. It was indeed a hard blow to be obliged to convict her of such sneaking behaviour. Yet duty was duty, and Lorraine set her teeth. Just before four o'clock Claudia asked permission from the mistress to leave a few minutes earlier, and made her exit while Patsie was collecting the essay books. Lorraine looked at her reproachfully, but of course could make no comment before Miss Turner. Directly the latter had taken her departure, there came a timid tap at the door, and Monica entered, a white-faced little figure with big puzzled eyes.
"You sent for me?" she faltered.
"Yes, I did send for you," replied Lorraine grimly. "I want to ask you, before all the monitresses, whether you were in the gym. this afternoon. Give a straight answer, Monica!"
"I've told Vivien I wasn't."
"Do you stick to that?"
"Yes."