Ruth’s “Yes” was very clear; her face looked modest but firm.  There was not the slightest hesitation in the words she uttered.  Her speech was not loud, but it could be heard to the end of the great hall.

“You are no longer a member?”

“No.”

“Three days ago I and the other governors sent for you to ask you certain questions.  You refused to answer those questions then.  We gave you three days to consider, telling you that if at the end of that time you still kept to your resolution there was only one thing for us to do, and that was to make an example of you in the presence of the entire school—­in short, to take from you your right of membership, and to expel you from the school, taking from you all privileges, all chances of acquiring learning and the different valuable scholarships which this school was opening to you.  We came to this most painful resolve knowing well that it would cast a blight upon your life, that wherever you went the knowledge that you had been publicly expelled from the Great Shirley School would follow you—­that you would, in short, step down, Ruth Craven.  I quite understand from the expression of your face that you are the sort of child who imagines that she is doing right when she keeps back the knowledge which she thinks she ought not to betray; but we governors do not agree with you.  There are six of us here, and we wish to tell you that if you now refuse the information which we wish to obtain from you, you will do wrong.  You are young, and cannot know as much as we do.  We earnestly beg of you, therefore; not to make a martyr of yourself in a silly and ridiculous cause.—­Mrs. Naylor, will you now say what you think to Ruth Craven?”

“I think, dear child,” said Mrs. Naylor, speaking in a tremulous voice, which could scarcely be heard half-way down the room, “that it would be best for you not to conceal the truth.”

“And I agree,” said Mrs. Ross.

“We all agree,” said the Misses Scott and Miss Jane Smyth.

“We all think, dear,” continued Mrs. Naylor, “that for the sake of any chivalrous ideas, quite worthy in themselves, it is a considerable pity for you to spoil your life.  You are not the sort of child who could stand disgrace.”

“And you don’t look the sort of child who would under ordinary circumstances act the idiot,” said Miss Mackenzie sharply.  “As to the chivalrous nature of your silence, I fail to see it.  I hope you have carefully considered the position and are prepared to act openly and honorably.  By go doing you will save the school and yourself.  Now then, Ruth Craven, will you come a little more forward?  Stand just there.—­Girls, you can all see Ruth Craven, can you not?”

The girls held up their hands in token that they could.

“I will therefore at once proceed to question her,” continued Miss Mackenzie.

There was just a moment’s pause, and during that complete silence a dreadful rushing noise came into Kathleen O’Hara’s head.  The floor for an instant seemed to rise up as though it would strike her; then she felt composed, but very cold and white.  She fixed her eyes full on Ruth.