“Of course it is unreasonable; but the trouble is,” pursued Mrs. Vincent, flushing, “she says unless a couple of you go over and present an apology for the crowd, she will lodge a complaint at the office.”
“Now I know she is crazy,” snapped Lucile.
“Naturally,” went on Mrs. Vincent, “a question of my incompetence, or of my inability to manage you properly, will arise if such a complaint is lodged. Of course, you must do as you wish. I’m simply laying the whole matter frankly before you.”
Mrs. Vincent turned abruptly and disappeared into her own room.
“This is a pretty mess!” scolded Katharine.
“It’s mostly your fault!” cried Hazel, looking angrily at Clarice.
“How is it, I’d like to know!” demanded the girl, flushing a dull red, but gazing defiantly at her accuser.
“You did most of the yelling and rough-housing,” retorted Frances promptly.
“I didn’t pile into Ruth’s bed; I didn’t sit beside the back door, singing; I—”
“No,” interrupted Jane soothingly, “I think we all did our share; but—”