“For some reasons I might have endured it; but then, you see, there is that awkward thing about the Ruskin book.”
“The Ruskin book!” said Sylvia. She turned white, and her heart began to beat. “Surely—surely, Evelyn, you have had nothing to do with the tearing out of the first pages of Sesame and Lilies!”
“You won’t tell—you promise you won’t tell?” said Evelyn, nodding her head, and her eyes looking very bright.
“Oh! I don’t know. This is dreadful; please relieve my anxiety.”
“You will not tell; you dare not!” said Evelyn, with passion. “If you did I would tell about Jasper—I would. Oh! I would not leave a stone unturned to make your life miserable. There, Sylvia, forgive me; I did not mean to scold. I like you so much, dear Sylvia; and I am so glad you have Jasper with you, and it suits me to perfection. But I did tear the leaves out of the book; yes, I did, and I am glad I did; and you must never, never tell.”
“But, Eve—oh, Eve! why did you do such a dreadful thing?”
“I did it in a fit of temper, to spite that horrid Miss Thompson; I hate her so! She was so intolerably cheeky; she made me stay in during recreation on the very first day, and she accused me of telling lies, and when she had left the room I saw the odious book lying on the table. I had seen her reading it before, and I thought it was her book; and almost before I had time to think, the pages were out and torn up and in the fire. If I had known it was Miss Henderson’s book, of course, I should not have done it. But I did not know. I meant to punish horrid old Thompson, and it seems I have succeeded better than I expected.”
“But, Eve—Eve, the whole school is suspected now. What are you going to do?”
“Do!” replied Evelyn. “Nothing.”
“But you have been asked, have you not, whether you knew anything about the injury to the book?”