ent, and Miss Rutherford came hastening down, with alarmed
aspect, begging to be told what was the matter. But the summoner had
turned and fled at the first sight of the lady's garments. Miss
Rutherford darted into the schoolroom, and at once there was quietness,
save for half-choked sobs here and there, and a more ominous kind of
moaning from the crowded corner.

"Gracious goodness, children, what is it? Who's that lying on the
floor? Harriet Smales! What _ever_ has happened?"

The cluster of children had fallen aside, exposing a strange picture.
On the ground lay a girl of twelve, her face deadly pale, save in the
places where it was dabbled with fresh blood, which still streamed from
a gash on the right side of her forehead. Her eyes were half opened;
she was just recovering consciousness; a moan came from her at
intervals. She had for support the lap and arms of a little girl,
perhaps two years younger than herself. Heedless of the flowing blood,
this child was pressing her pale cheek against that of the wounded one,
whose name she kept murmuring in pitiful accents, mixed with endearing
epithets. So unconscious was she of all around, that the falling back
of the other children did not cause her to raise her eyes; neither was
she aware of Miss Rutherford's first exclamations, nor yet of the
question which was next addressed to her by the horrified
schoolmistress.

"How did it happen? Some of you run at once for a doctor--Dr. Williams
in Grove Road--Oh, quick!--Ida Starr, how _did_ it happen?"

Ida did not move, but seemed to tighten her embrace. The other pupils
all looked fearfully hither and thither, but none ventured to speak.

"Ida!" repeated Miss Rutherford, dropping on her knees by the two, and
beginning to wipe away some of the blood with her handkerchief. "Speak,
child! Has some one gone for the doctor? How was it done?"

The face at length turned upon the questioner was almost as ghastly and
red-stained as that it had been pressed against. But it had become
self-controlled; the dark eyes looked straight forward with an
expression marvellously full of meaning in one so young; the lips did
not tremble as they spoke.

"I did it, Miss Rutherford. I have killed Harriet. I, and nobody else."

"You? How, child?"

"I killed her with the slate, Miss Rutherford; this slate, look."

She pointed to a slate without a frame which lay on the floor. There
were sums worked on the uppermost side, and the pencil-mar