Susan hesitated, coloured to her dullest red, and looked down. Then, because she had no ready excuse to offer, she blurted out the truth—
“I was going to see old Betty.”
“The cake-woman?”
“Yes.”
“What for?”
“I—I heard she was ill.”
“Indeed—you may sit down. Miss Drummond. Miss Good, will you ask Michael to step for a moment into the school-room?”
Several of the girls now indeed held their breath, and more than one heart beat with heavy, frightened bumps as a moment later Michael followed Miss Good into the room, carrying the redoubtable picnic-basket on his arm.
“Michael,” said Mrs Willis, “I wish you to tell the young ladies exactly how you found the basket this morning. Stand by my side, please, and speak loud enough for them to hear.” After a moment’s pause Michael related somewhat diffusely and with an occasional break in his narrative the scene which had occurred between him and Moses that morning.
“That will do, Michael; you can now go,” said the head-mistress.