Pip-Emma stood up at once. "It was me, Miss Thornton."
"But, Emma, dear, why? Didn't you have enough to eat? Were you hungry?"
Pip-Emma said simply and bravely, "I guess I'm always hungry."
Miss Thornton felt the sudden tears come into her throat. Poor little Emma Binns! No trees. Never enough to eat. And not without a forlorn charm. Prissy Adams, who had caught a glimpse of Clara's greenish countenance, remained grim and unmoved.
"Dear child, you should have told me. Come to my tent afterward. We can talk it over. Meantime it was fine and brave of you to tell the truth. It shows that you are a real Penguin—" she gave her warm, beloved chuckle—"almost, but not quite, perfect."
Everyone laughed and cheered except the Penguins, who for some unknown reason sank into the profoundest gloom. Clara VanSittart had left the table hurriedly.
* * * * *
Pip-Emma peeked out of the tent. The Penguin Circle was near the lake, and she could see the parents, looking better from a distance, lined up on benches along the water's edge. She could pick out Janet's parents because they were younger than the others. They didn't seem to be quarreling. They didn't seem even to be speaking to each other.
"O.K.," Pip-Emma said. She walked beside Janet like a trainer. She gave last instructions. Everyone knew Janet was her Gang. So Janet, who had never won anything, had to win. It was Prissy's opinion that if Janet did win, the Penguins, as a class, were licked. She said sharply to Clara,
"If you feel as bad as you look, you'd better throw up the sponge."