One glance swept across the place and it was immediately apparent that Pottiswick had not, this time, been mistaken. ‘Or do I arrest you and have these soldiers march you off to gaol?’ A sweep of his arm indicated the array of military strength on the benches, every eye of which was trained on the little scene being enacted before them. “Yes, I will go,” she promised, with a queer little smile. She approached a soft-looking bespectacled girl she had seen once in the halls and noticed for her haunted look. "I will," answered the prisoner. " "You might have added 'then'," said Miss Spurlock, drily. If only there had not been this single torturing thought—a mere pin-prick, but still curiously persistent. Ann Veronica readjusted her chin on her hand. With a strong tendency to satire, but without a particle of malice or ill-nature in its display. Her foster father had been outside for most of the morning, working on trimming the maple trees and mowing the lawn. She could hear him from the lower floor as he locked the gates and drew up the wooden part of the bridge. She found presently she was out of the dock and confronted with the alternative of being bound over in one surety for the sum of forty pounds— whatever that might mean or a month’s imprisonment. But he knew.
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