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"It's not a problem, Mrs. Turnbell. I”"

"Do you know that your brother has been late twice for classes since you two were entered in this school?" she snapped.

I shook my head.

"And now you," she added, nodding.

"It's my first lateness. Ever," I added.

"Ever?" She raised her dark and somewhat bushy eyebrows skeptically. "In any case this is not the place to begin developing bad habits. This is especially not the place," she emphasized.

"Yes, ma'am," I said. "I'm sorry."

"I believe I explained our rules to you and your brother on your first morning here. Tell me, Miss Longchamp, was my explanation adequate?" She kept on without allowing me to answer. "I told you that both of you had an extra burden and an extra responsibility since your father was employed here," she continued. Her words stung and made the tears that had flown into my eyes feel hot.

"When a brother and sister have the same bad habits," she went on, "it is not hard to determine that they have them because they come from the same background."

"But we don't have bad habits, Mrs. Turnbell.

"Don't be insolent! Are you questioning my judgment?"

"No, Mrs. Turnbell," I said and bit down on my lower lip to keep myself from adding any words.

"You will report to detention immediately after school today," she snapped.

"But . . ."

"What?" She raised her eyes and glared at me.

"I have a piano lesson with Mr. Moore after school and—"

"You're going to have to miss this one, but you have only yourself to blame," she said. "Now, return to your class," she commanded.

"What happened?" Louise asked when I saw her on the way to the cafeteria.

"I got detention for being late to homeroom," I moaned.

"Really? Detention for being late only once?" She tilted her head. "I guess I’m next, only . . ."

"Only what?"

"Clara Sue and Linda have been late to class twice this week, and the Turnkey hasn't even called them down to reprimand and them. Usually it's after three late classes."

"I think she's clumped my brother's two and my one together," I reasoned sourly.

Philip was waiting for me at the entrance to the cafeteria. He saw the sad look on my face, and I told him what had happened.

"That's so unfair," he said. "Maybe you should have your father speak to her."

"Oh, I couldn't ask Daddy to do that. What if she got mad at him, and had him fired and all on account of me!"

Philip snorted.

"It's still not fair," he said. He looked down at the pape

r bag I had clutched in my hand. "And what gourmet sandwich did you make for yourself today?" he asked.

"I. . ." All I had in my bag was an apple I had grabbed on the way out. Fern had gotten up earlier than usual, and between taking care of her and making breakfast, I had just forgotten to make any sandwiches until it was time to leave. I could make Daddy late for work, so I made a sandwich quickly for Jimmy and threw an apple into a paper bag for myself "I just have an apple today," I said.