"I did not," retorted Myra.
"Ask her who brought the powder and laid a train right under me! Ask her what she's doing with that box of matches!"
"Is that true?" Mr. Sam demanded again, straightening himself up and fixing a terrible stare on Myra.
The girl's face hardened. "Yes, I brought the powder." She pointed to the flask lying in the roadway.
"You dare to tell me that you did this deliberately?"
"I never did it at all."
"Yes, she did!" almost screamed the boy. "She put the powder here; she owns up to it."
Myra shrugged her shoulders and turned away. "Very well; he's telling a nasty fib, but you can believe him if you like."
"Stop a minute, miss." Mr. Sam strode across to her. "You don't get off in that fashion, I promise you!"
She looked up at him sidewise, under lowered brows. "Are you going to beat me?" she asked quietly.