"Girls," said Miss Cardrew then, in her grave, stern way, "who did this?"
Nobody answered.
"Who put that cat in my desk?" repeated Miss Cardrew.
It was perfectly still. Gypsy's cheeks were scarlet. Joy was looking carelessly about the room, scanning the faces of the girls, as if she were trying to find out who was the guilty one.
"It is highly probable that the cat tied herself into an apron, opened the desk and shut the cover down on herself," said Miss Cardrew; "we will look into this matter. Delia Guest, did you put her in?"
"No'm—he, he! I guess I—ha, ha!—didn't," said Delia.
"Next!"—and down the first row went Miss Cardrew, asking the same question of every girl, and the second row, and the third. Gypsy sat on the end of the fourth settee.
"Gypsy Breynton, did you put the kitten in my desk?"
"No'm, I didn't," said Gypsy; which was true enough. It was Joy who did that part of it.
"Did you have anything to do with the matter, Gypsy?" Perhaps Miss Cardrew remembered that Gypsy had had something to do with a few other similar matters since she had been in school.