“One of the direst days in the whole of my school experience was the day I spilt the ink.
“The accident happened on a Friday, and, since the event, Black Friday has altered its position on the calendar, as far as I am concerned.
“The terrible meaning the words ‘spilt ink’ convey to the mind can only be understood by those who know how dearly Miss Buss cherished the bright appearance of our beautiful school, and how she strove to raise a similar feeling in us by occasionally comparing its appearance with that of other public schools (especially boys’), and by having every spot and stain forcibly eradicated as soon as incurred.
“This accident happened one Friday morning just before prayers, and was not confined to a single spot, but included the contents of a large well-inkstand provokingly full.
“Hurrying past the form-table on hearing the hall bell, a long protruding pen caught in a fold of my dress, the whole apparatus swung steadily round and fell on the floor with a hideous splash. There was only time to pick up the stand and pen, the ink, alas! was foolishly left to soak steadily into the stainless floor.
“That morning our bright little service seemed interminably long, and several notices delayed the filing off of the classes as speedily as usual.
“I was the first to re-enter our room, in which Fraülein stood alone gazing at the catastrophe.
“I told her I was the culprit, and mumbled out something about ‘telling Miss Buss.’
“Her smile and quiet remark, ‘She vill not vant much telling,’ were hardly reassuring.
“Fraülein was quite right; Miss Buss did not want any telling, the evidence in black and white was quite sufficient. She never scolded me for the accident, but was vexed at my not having informed the housekeeper immediately, instead of allowing the ink to soak comfortably in for twenty minutes.