Mr. Buckman bore the rabbits out of the room and the class, much soberer, looked questioningly about and whispered inquiries. But everyone professed ignorance on the subject.
"Ought to have his head punched, whoever he is," growled Chub to Roy. And the latter heartily agreed.
When the class was dismissed Harry was waiting, with a white face and blazing eyes, in the corridor. She made for Roy instantly.
"They're both dead," she cried, "and I hope you're satisfied. Of all nasty, mean things to do, Roy Porter, that's the very meanest! I should think you'd be ashamed of yourself! I should think you'd be ashamed to look at me!"
"I don't know anything about it," protested Roy earnestly. "I'm awfully sorry, Harry, honest!"
"Do you think I believe that?" demanded Harry, brushing aside the tears that would leak out in spite of her. "You did it to get even with me, I know you did! I don't care what you do to me, but it was cowardly to kill my poor rabbits!"
"Harry, I give you my word—!"
"I don't want your word! I wouldn't believe you, Roy Porter! You're a mean, contemptible thing!"
"Oh, very well," said Roy angrily, walking away. "You can think whatever you like; I don't care!"
But he did care, nevertheless.