Honor never did things by halves; if she wept, she wept, and at present she was a perfect Niobe, almost drowned in tears. When she saw Janie she gave her streaming eyes a hasty mop with a very wet pocket-handkerchief.
"Have I killed her?" she asked, in a tragic whisper.
"Of course not!" replied Janie. "It was only a small cut on the cheek. It's all right now it has been bathed with cold water."
"I was afraid they'd bring it in murder," groaned Honor. "Oh, the ill luck of it, that it should have been Miss Farrar! And the dictionary came down with such a frightful bang! I can never look her in the face again."
"You'll have to!" said Janie. "I was sent to fetch you back at once. You needn't be afraid, Miss Farrar has taken it so nicely."
Poor Honor's apologies and the depths of her genuine remorse would have melted the hardest of hearts, much more that of her teacher.
"We'll say no more about it," declared Miss Farrar. "All the same, remember that I cannot allow such things to happen in the classroom. You might have hurt Flossie very seriously. No, my scratch is nothing! It will be healed directly. But if you are really sorry, Honor, you must give me your most solemn promise that you will never play such a dangerous practical joke again."
CHAPTER VII
St. Chad's Celebrates an Occasion