"Where?"
"Trickling down the outside of the desk!"
"You don't suppose she's upset the——"
"Ink-bottle—yes."
Miss Cardrew was in the tenth verse, and the room was very still. Right into the stillness there broke again a distinct, prolonged, dolorous—
And this time Miss Cardrew laid down her Bible and lifted the desk-cover.
It is reported in school to this day that Miss Cardrew jumped.
Out flew the kitten, like popped corn from a shovel, glared over the desk in the nightcap and black apron, leaped down, and flew, all dripping with ink, down the aisle, out of the door, and bouncing downstairs like an India-rubber ball.
Delia Guest and one or two of the other girls screamed. Miss Cardrew flung out some books and papers from the desk. It was too late; they were dripping, and drenched, and black. The teacher quietly wiped some spots of ink from her pretty blue merino, and there was an awful silence.