Mr. Superintendent proved equal to the occasion; he looked at them with
his resolute eye, and he cowed them with his military voice.
"Now, then, you women, go down-stairs again, every one of you; I won't
have you here. Look!" says Mr. Superintendent, suddenly pointing to a
little smear of the decorative painting on Miss Rachel's door, at the
outer edge, just under the lock. "Look what mischief the petticoats of
some of you have done already. Clear out! clear out!" Rosanna Spearman,
who was nearest to him, and nearest to the little smear on the door,
set the example of obedience, and slipped off instantly to her work. The
rest followed her out. The Superintendent finished his examination of
the room, and, making nothing of it, asked me who had first discovered
the robbery. My daughter had first discovered it. My daughter was sent
for.
Mr. Superintendent proved to be a little too sharp with Penelope at
starting. "Now, young woman, attend to me, and mind you speak the
truth." Penelope fired up instantly. "I've never been taught to tell
lies Mr. Policeman!--and if father can stand there and hear me accused
of falsehood and thieving, and my own bed-room shut against me, and my
character taken away, which is all a poor girl has left, he's not the
good father I take him for!" A timely word from me put Justice and
Penelope on a pleasanter footing together.
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