“Oh—Ruby!” Joyce’s tone was scornful. “She doesn’t count. Anyone else would have whipped that beastly cream-puff under her pillow, but she just let it sit there to give us all away. She’s an outcast!”
“She’ll emerge with a perfectly good halo, in Miss Stone’s eyes,” said Robin, laughing. “I can see Ruby as a prefect before long, ruling us all with a rod of iron. But truly, girls, you can’t come with me. I’ve got to take my gruel alone.”
“You can’t stop us,” Betty said, stubbornly.
“It will only make things worse,” Robin pleaded. “Miss Stone wants a victim, but she doesn’t want four: she will be madder than ever if you all march into the study. And it isn’t fair, no matter how you look at it. I’m the Knave of Hearts who stole the tarts, and if I have to be beaten full sore, well, it’s just. You can’t get away from it, that it is just.”
“Justice is all right, but Miss Stone can be such a pig,” said Annette. “If she hadn’t such a down on you, already, Robin, we wouldn’t mind. We’re coming, and that’s all about it.”
The big bell clanged out, and from every quarter the girls began to hurry towards the schoolroom.
“Well, I must go,” Robin said, straightening her shoulders. “Trot off into school, my dears, or you will be marked late.” She smiled at them, turning to go.
“We’re coming,” said the three, in an obstinate chorus. They formed round her, and marched across the playground and into the house, while Robin protested vainly. She was still protesting when they reached the study door and Joyce tapped gently.
Miss Stone’s eyebrows went up as they filed into the room.
“I summoned Robin only,” she said, stiffly. “Why are you all here?”