That afternoon, as soon as she had given the first grade pupils seat work to keep them busy, Miss Mason remembered her promise to show the higher class her book. Tim Roon, who had been secretly relieved that Mr. Hornbeck’s visit had delayed the discovery of his trick, now began to be uneasy. He flashed a warning look at Charlie Black as Miss Mason fumbled with the papers that covered the book.
“I’ll pass it down the aisle,” said Miss Mason, 79 drawing out the book. “Now, Ellen, this first picture was drawn by an artist named–––”
Ellen Glover looked up startled. Miss Mason’s voice had stopped so suddenly when she opened her book that the effect was as if some one had closed a door sharply while some one else was speaking.
“Her face was just as white,” Meg afterward told her mother, “and then it got red and her eyes snapped like––like anything!”
Indeed Miss Mason’s eyes were snapping fire. Tim Roon for the first time in his life was actually afraid of his teacher.
“Some vandal has destroyed this beautiful book,” said Miss Mason, speaking coldly and slowly. “It was almost priceless. I want each one of you to come up to the desk and see how it has been ruined. First grade, put away your work.”
A sudden shiver of excitement went over the room. No one had ever seen Miss Mason so angry before. And yet she was very quiet and still about it. Aisle by aisle, she made them come up and look at the book, insisting that each 80 child take it in his hands and examine the spots of ink. When the last pupil had returned to his seat she spoke again.
“This was done during recess,” she said. “I did not leave the room this noon. If any one in this class was in the room at recess this morning, raise his hand.”
Not one hand went up.
Miss Mason sighed impatiently.