There was a timid knock on the door and a girl of Sarah's age, but smaller, came in. She had changed into the school uniform and wore steel-rimmed spectacles.
"Stand beside Stone, Harvey," the headmistress said. "Now I want you to think very carefully before you answer what I'm going to ask you."
Angela Harvey looked terrified and began to cry.
"There, you see?" Sarah said. "You're only doing this because you don't like my mother! You want me to leave school, and it's the only excuse you can find!"
"Be quiet," Miss Wakefield said with an unpleasant smile. She never lost her temper. "Did you, or did you not," she went on to the damp Angela, "copy the answers in your arithmetic from Stone?"
"Oh, no! Oh, I wouldn't, Miss Wakefield!"
"Then how is it you have seventeen right answers? You never do as well as that, and you got the same three wrong that Stone did."
"I don't know, Miss Wakefield! I don't know!" Angela sobbed loudly and became smaller than ever.
"I'm afraid," said Miss Wakefield, who looked quite otherwise, "that unless your friend here can explain this curious—this odd coincidence by admitting she copied your answers, I shall have to ask your parents to remove you from St. Agatha's at once."