Poor frightened Vivian tried to look into Miss Green’s glaring eyes, but failed miserably. She stammered, hesitated, was silent.
“Answer me, Vivian. What sort of a method of procedure is this?”
“Please—please, Miss Green, it’s—it’s—”
“Well, it’s what?”
“It’s the way they discipline sn-snobbish c-cow-boys in Wyoming.”
Utter silence reigned for a few long seconds. Miss Green stared at each of the mystified girls, until her eye fell upon Virginia, most mystified of all.
“For the present, Virginia,” she said in measured tones, each one distinct, “I will inform you that methods which are in vogue upon a Wyoming ranch are not suitable in a young ladies’ boarding-school. I will see you later.”
She turned to go with Miss Wallace, still dripping, still glaring. Miss Wallace’s face had become stern.
“Go to your rooms, girls. There will be no talking to-night. Please remember, Mary.”
“Yes, Miss Wallace,” promised the Senior monitor.