"Yes, queer taste on Washer's part, isn't it?" returned Duane complacently.
"Very," said France, bursting into a laugh. "However, you make a very well-matched pair."
"Yes, I suppose you're thinking that opposites meet," replied Duane, undisturbed. "There's only one thing in which Washer and I are alike."
"What's that?"
"Our genius for science."
"Well, let's hope your genius will pull off the Richoter for you," put in Kitty. "Then Carslake's can crow for once in its life. There's the dinner bell. You'll see our Richoter candidate doesn't faint this afternoon through lack of nourishment, won't you, France?"
By two o'clock that afternoon the four houses were quiet and deserted, all except the Richoter candidates being in their classrooms. Little did they dream, as the clock hand pointed to the half hour and then crept onwards, of the drama that was being enacted even then in the science laboratory.
The nine candidates had assembled punctually at two-thirty; Duane had handed over the key to Miss Vacher and, Miss St. Leger also with them, they had entered the room and taken up their former places to continue their work.
There was several minutes' silence while the girls began to take their compounds from the midget furnaces, preparatory to weighing. Miss St. Leger and Miss Vacher were talking together in low tones when a sudden exclamation from Salome made them glance up quickly. With an expression of amazement on her face the girl was gazing at one of the pans which she had just removed from her balance; underneath the pan was a small gravel pebble attached to the pan by means of a piece of plasticine. She swung round quickly as the Principal's voice, from just behind her, said sharply: "Has someone been interfering with your balances, Constance?" (Constance was Salome's baptismal name.)