“I thought as much! A towel, if you please, Miss Bryant—quickly! You wicked, deceitful girls! Which of you stole these cakes from my pantry this afternoon?”
The profound silence that greeted this question was broken by a smothered burst of irrepressible laughter from two beds at the end of the room. The scene had been too much for Robin and Betty. They ducked their heads beneath the clothes, whence gurgles proceeded.
It was all that was necessary to fan Miss Stone’s anger to white heat. Words failed her for a moment, while she rubbed furiously at her sticky hand.
“You will find it by no means a joke, young ladies,” she said, bitterly, her voice shaking. “Ruby Bennett, what do you know of this theft?”
“I didn’t do it,” said Ruby, sulkily.
“The cake was on your pillow—do you think I am going to believe that you know nothing of it? Answer me!”
“I never touched your cakes—and I never ate any,” Ruby gulped. Fear of Miss Stone’s wrath mingled with fear of her schoolfellows, should she tell all she longed to tell.
“Did you put the cake on your pillow?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Then who did?”