“I have not left the room since I entered it at eight o’clock, Miss Woodhull.”
“Mrs. Bonnell,” called the now thoroughly exasperated principal, “did you see Beverly Ashby return to this gymnasium less than ten minutes ago?”
“Beverly has not been out of it, Miss Woodhull. She has been enjoying her refreshments with the other pupils.”
“Ridiculous! Miss Stetson, perhaps you have a clearer idea of facts since I requested you to return to the gymnasium and call the roll. Was Beverly present when you did so?”
“She was standing not ten feet from me, Miss Woodhull. Of this I am positive, because her cap fell from her head as she replied and delayed the response of the girl next on the roll, who stopped to pick it up.”
“I believe you are all irresponsible! These silly Hallowe’en customs have turned your heads. I have never approved such inane proceedings. Why you may as well try to convince me that I, myself, did not enter Suite 10, and that I did not speak to Beverly Ashby in it not ten minutes ago, and leave her there in the middle of her bed weeping and conducting herself like a spoiled child because she could not participate in the closing Virginia Reel. Utter nonsense! Utter nonsense! But we will have no more hoodwinking, rest assured. There has been quite enough already. You may all go to your rooms reels or no reels. I have experienced enough folly for one night—if not much worse.”
For a second there was profound silence, then a general cry of protest arose. To be defrauded of their Virginia Reel for no justifiable reason, and sent to bed before ten o’clock like a lot of naughty children when they really had not done a single thing, was too much.
Petty wept openly. Petty’s griefs, sorrow or joys could invariably find prompt relief in tears or giggles. She existed in a perpetual state of emotion of some sort.
“Look at Miss Stetson’s face. She doesn’t know whether to frown or smile. She will lose her reason presently.”