deserve to be sent to prison,” said Miss Minchin’s voice. “Picking and stealing! Half a meat pie, indeed!”
“‘T warn’t me,” wept Becky. “I could ‘ave eat a whole un—but I never laid a finger on it.”
Miss Minchin was out of breath between temper and mounting the stairs. The meat pie had been intended for her special late supper. It became apparent that she boxed Becky’s ears.
“Don’t tell falsehoods,” she said. “Go to your room this instant.”
Both Sara and Ermengarde heard the slap, and then heard
if she had been a nervous child she would have left her seat on the battered footstool in a great hurry. A large rat was sitting up on his hind quarters and sniffing the air in an interested manner. Some of Lottie’s crumbs had dropped upon the floor and their scent had drawn him out of his hole.
He