Noreen shook her head.
"Not she. She would have done it long ago if she meant to. She's probably a beastly slacker, who doesn't care two pins about hockey...."
"Nor the Coll," Joey added gloomily.
"I've a good mind to go to the match after all—are you game, Joey?" Noreen said suddenly. "Oh yes, I know there'll be the father and mother, not to mention the aunts and uncles of a good old row; but one may just as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb. If they're going to suspect me of beastly things like this——"
Noreen was driven rather desperate; that was clear. Joey held on tighter to her arm, as though she expected her to bolt off there and then.
"It would be heavenly, Noreen; but we can't—you know we can't. Besides, everyone's dying to go."
"If I could get hold of that skunk of a girl!" growled Noreen, and then her eyes lit up again with a dangerous gleam. "Tell you what, Joey; I've a precious good mind to say I did do it after all; and then the others will be allowed to go anyway."
"Noreen!" gasped Joey.
"Oh, of course. I shall tell Miss Conyngham that I didn't—afterwards—when it's too late to matter. You're right about the other thing; it would be rather skunkish when everyone is dying to go. But I'd give them the chance this way. Oh, I know it's an awful thumper, but they shouldn't put it into my head by hinting that I did the crime and lay low."
"No one would believe you did it," Joey urged, grasping at a straw. "No one to count, at least—who cares for silly idiots like Doris and Roma?"