Rosemary went home at noon, leaving half the cakes to do on her return. A large bowl of chocolate icing stood on the table, covered with a muslin cloth.
There was no one to see the kitchen door open slyly fifteen minutes later, no one to see a figure dart in and make for the table. One hand lifted the muslin cloth, the other reached for the large tin salt shaker.
"Drop that!" said a voice peremptorily.
The shaker dropped to the floor with a clatter, and Fannie Mears turned to face Mr. Oliver.
"What are you doing in here?" he asked sternly. "Did Miss Parsons ask you to do anything to that bowl?"
At that moment Miss Parsons herself came into the kitchen.
"I was looking for you," Mr. Oliver explained, "and I saw Fannie Mears about to shake something into that large bowl on the table. I thought Rosemary Willis was working here this morning."
"She was—" Miss Parsons stooped to recover the shaker. "Salt!" she ejaculated as she saw what it was. "Fannie Mears, I do believe you were going to salt Rosemary's icing!"
Fannie began to cry.
"Did you salt the soup last fall?" asked the teacher sternly. "Did you? Answer me, Fannie."