"Yes; at least——"
"Is it, or is it not?"
Maysie's voice was very low.
"Yes, it is," she said.
Silence ensued, a brief, awkward silence. It was at this moment that Maysie made up her mind. She would not clear herself at the expense of her chum! Ruth should not be expelled through her!
Miss Elton believed her guilty; she would not undeceive her.
Miss Elton waited with her eyes on Maysie's paintings.
They were done as no other girl in the school would have done them, but the thought afforded her no satisfaction, though she had always prophesied great things of Maysie. Then she glanced at the child's downcast face.
"I am sorry about this, Maysie," she said, with the faintest suspicion of reproach in her voice, "I thought we were better friends."
A lump came into Maysie's throat, and the tears into her eyes. She looked at the microscope, at the tiny glass slides, at her unfinished sheet; but she had nothing to say.