After their first fright with regard to Miss Winthrop’s injuries was over, the girls began to think of their own cause for alarm. Fortunately for them, nothing was said by Mr. Worcester that night about the authors of the mischief; and by degrees they regained their self-possession.
But they well knew that their teacher’s silence would not last long, and were not surprised when, the next day, after the school was called together, Mr. Worcester made a speech, setting forth the enormity of the offence, and at the close asked those who were concerned in it to rise.
This Carrie could not do, for from terror she was absolutely incapable of moving; and Florence would not, for she knew that her secret was in her own keeping; and she felt pretty sure that, though she might be suspected, it could not be proved that she was guilty.
Mr. Worcester was very angry. He threatened severe punishment against the offenders, and declared that it was useless to hope to escape detection.
Never were there two more wretched girls than the culprits. Florence was thoroughly frightened for once, and neither she nor her accomplice could think or talk of any thing else. Of course, Susan knew all about it; for the basin which she had seen had given her a clew to the secret of the room-mates, and, knowing this, they did not hesitate to talk of the affair before her.
It was only the day after Mr. Worcester’s speech that Florence was summoned to the study. Several girls who had been supposed to have some reason for disliking Miss Forester had been previously sent for and cross-examined,—so that Florence’s summons did not add much to her alarm.
She was not detained long, but came back in quite good spirits, saying, as she entered the room,—
“Carrie, Mr. Worcester will send for you in a minute. Go down and declare that you know nothing about it. I’ve lied right straight along: all you’ve got to do is to stick to it.”
“Oh, what shall I do? What shall I do?” exclaimed the poor girl, wildly.
“Tell the truth, Carrie,” said Susan, firmly.