“Well, she must be somewhere,” cried he when we laughed at him. “She could not sink through the floor.”
“Who saw her last?” repeated Miss Timmens. “Do you hear, children? Just stop eating for a minute, and answer.”
Much discussion—doubt—cross-questioning. The whole lot seemed to be nearly as stupid as owls. At last, so far as could be gathered, none of them had noticed Nettie since they began “Puss-in-the-corner.”
“Jane Bright, I told you to take Nettie to play with the rest, and to find her a corner. What did you do with her?”
Jane Bright commenced her answer by essaying to take a sly bite at her pie. Miss Timmens stopped her midway, and turned her from the table to face the company.
“Do you hear me? Now don’t stand staring like a gaby! Just answer.”
Like a “gaby” did Jane Bright stand: mouth wide open, eyes round, countenance bewildered.
“Please, governess, I didn’t do nothing with her.”
“You must have done something with her: you held her hand.”
“I didn’t do nothing,” repeated the girl, shaking her head stolidly.