"I came for my clothing," she said icily; "not to be lectured by you."
"No," Perry said. "You came here convicted of bad citizenship. We can't pass bad citizenship over with a smile. It's too serious. If you object to getting both clothing and the truth at the same time, you can go to Mr. Rue's office and complain."
The girl half arose from her chair, and then dropped back. She bit her lips. This tall, thin monster who stood before her with the austere gravity of an executioner had all the best of it. She could not go to the principal's office without having to explain there how her locker had come to be open. Better a session with Perry than a session with Mr. Rue. She leaned back in the chair, turned her eyes toward the door leading to the hall, and began to hum.
Perry went over to the clothing and brought back one of the piles. "Personal belongings must be identified before surrender," he said.
"One silk handbag."
The girl continued to stare out of the door.
"Not identified," said Perry. "We'll put that aside. It must belong to somebody else."
Betty sprang to her feet. "That's mine. My initials are inside. My mother gave me that last Christmas."
