“I do not like what is going on,” said Hermione after a pause. “I did not want to worry you when you were ill, but Riki came to me on that evening and asked me if I was going out; and then she begged me to post a letter for her.”
“Oh yes,” I said. I trembled slightly. “And you—what did you do?”
“Do?” said Hermione—“do? I asked her to read the rules in her bedroom.”
“The rules in her bedroom?” I said.
“My dear Dumps, wherever are your eyes? There are rules written in four languages in every bedroom in the house. Have you never read those in your room?”
“I have glanced at them.”
“Well, in the German and French and Italian sections the very strictest rule of all is that no letters of any sort whatsoever are to be posted by girls of those nationalities except in the post-box in the hall, and any girl helping another to get letters in any other fashion into the post will be most severely punished.”
“I did not notice it.”
“Well, notice it the next time you go into your bedroom. But don’t look so white; it doesn’t matter to us, surely!”
“Of course not,” I said in a faint voice. After a pause I said, “But why are you anxious about her now?”