"We won't do it again! We swear!"
The two ruffians, scared out of their wits, supported each other as they fled in disarray. One of them even lost a shoe but didn't dare turn back to get it.
Phoebe Huxley grinned at Old Master Tate. "I was dead to the world. Good thing you were so alert, Mr. Tate, and gave that bastard a taste of the knife."
"It wasn't me. Rosalind was the one who did it. She's terrified."
Old Master Tate looked worriedly at Rosalind's deathly pale face. 'This isn't right. I hope nothing bad happens,' he thought.
Phoebe Huxley stared at Rosalind in astonishment. 'That softy was the one who cut him? Have pigs started to fly?'
But she quickly saw that Rosalind was not okay; she was clearly scared witless. Phoebe Huxley frowned and pinched the philtrum under Rosalind's nose hard. Rosalind slowly came to, crying nonstop. "I killed someone... I'm going to jail... What do I do?"
