There was not a sound. One could have heard a pin drop. The stillness continued; the master searched face after face for signs of guilt.

     "Benjamin Rogers, did you tear this book?"

     A denial. Another pause.

     "Joseph Harper, did you?"

     Another denial. Tom's uneasiness grew more and more intense under the slow torture of these proceedings. The master scanned the ranks of boys--considered a while, then turned to the girls:

     "Amy Lawrence?"

     A shake of the head.

     "Gracie Miller?"

     The same sign.

     "Susan Harper, did you do this?"

     Another negative. The next girl was Becky Thatcher. Tom was trembling from head to foot with excitement and a sense of the hopelessness of the situation.

     "Rebecca Thatcher" [Tom glanced at her face--it was white with terror]--"did you tear--no, look me in the face" [her hands rose in appeal]--"did you tear this book?"