Raymonde and Morvyth, having expended the ammunition, hurried downstairs, and slipped in among their Form mates unobserved. The school spent an agitated hour in the cellar, sitting on blankets clutched from their beds. As all appeared quiet, and no more mysterious thumps resounded on the roof, Miss Beasley, who had reconnoitred, declared it safe to return to roost, and ordered her twenty-six pupils upstairs again. Possibly she had her suspicions, for very early next morning she went out to investigate the extent of the damage, and discovered a selection of the projectiles lying on the lawn. The result was a solemn harangue to the whole school. "I don't know who has played this contemptible practical joke," she proclaimed witheringly. "It may seem humorous to small minds, but to me it is pitiable. There were no doubt instigators amongst you, and for the sake of those ringleaders I shall punish you all. You will spend Wednesday afternoon in your class-rooms copying out 'Lycidas,' instead of taking our projected trip on the river. It is hard to punish the innocent with the guilty, but those responsible for this occurrence are probably known to their companions, who will, I hope, visit their displeasure upon them, and cause them to regret that they have deprived the school of a holiday." Miss Beasley's method of punishment, though voted abominably unfair by the majority, was certainly efficacious. Such grave suspicion fell on the Mystic Seven that the indignant monitresses took the matter in hand, and insisted on investigating the entire business. Popular opinion raged hotly against the culprits, for the promised expedition to the river had been regarded as the treat of the term. "I believe it's all your fault, Raymonde Armitage!" scolded Linda Mottram. "If there's any mischief about, one may be sure you're at the bottom of it. We don't want your monkey tricks here. They're on the level of a kindergarten for little boys. If anything more of this sort happens, you may expect to find yourself jolly well boycotted. I shan't speak to you, in any case, for a week, and I hope none of the other monitresses will. You deserve sending to Coventry by everybody." "How hard it is to be public-spirited!" mourned Raymonde to her chums afterwards. "I'm sure I gave everybody a treat, and especially Gibbie. I'm a martyr to the cause of emergencies. For goodness' sake don't any of you drink poison by mistake, or they'll lay the blame on me and send me to the gallows!" CHAPTER VII The Crystal Gazers