Chapter Ten.
An Armistice.
A week passed by, and the mystery was no nearer being unravelled than on the first evening, though every possible means had been taken to discover the offender. At the beginning of the time the general feeling had been in favour of Pixie, but girls are very human creatures, and as the days passed by and they suffered for her silence, a feeling of resentment began to grow against her. Why should all the school be suspected because one girl refused to tell what she knew? What was the use of pretending to be so kind and helpful, if you would not sacrifice your pride for your friends’ comfort? If Pixie were innocent, why should she be afraid to answer questions? But, really—and then the heads would draw close together, and the voices drop to a whisper—really she looked so wretched and ashamed, that one began to wonder if she could be innocent after all! A whole week, and she had not once been in mischief. Didn’t that look as if something was on her mind? While as for funny stories, she was as dull as Clara herself; and it was impossible to say anything more scathing than that!
After Margaret’s failure no more personal efforts had been made to induce Pixie to confess; but at the end of a week the anticipated blow fell, for Miss Phipps addressed the assembled school and announced her intention of confiscating holidays until the end of the term.
“I am sorry to punish the innocent with the guilty,” she said, “but I hope that the consciousness that she is depriving her companions of their enjoyment may have more influence with the culprit, whoever she may be, than any words of mine. I don’t think it is right to deprive your teachers of their much-needed rest, so on Wednesdays and Saturdays you will have extra preparation during the hours which would otherwise have been your own. Of course no invitations can be accepted. I have written to your brother, Pixie, to say that you will not be able to go out with him on Saturday, as arranged.”
Pixie’s cry of dismay was drowned by the general groan, which swelled ever louder and louder as Miss Phipps left the room. The younger girls looked inclined to cry, one or two stamped on the floor with irrepressible anger, and there was a very babel of indignation.
“I told you so! What did I say? As if we hadn’t enough to do without slaving six hours more! I know what it will be now—I shall get so worn out that I shall fail in my examination.”
“Preparation! More prep! I call that adding insult to injury. If it had been a class, I wouldn’t have minded half so much. I’m sick and tired of school. I’ll ask my mother if I may leave the day I am seventeen.”
“And I was going out on Wednesday! I had an invitation this morning, and was going to tell Miss Phipps after tea. I may as well write and say I can’t go, and it would have been so nice too. I should have had such fun!”