“Worse. They were yelling and throwing sanitary napkins at her when I walked in. Throwing them like… like peanuts.”

“Oh. Oh, dear.” John Wayne disappeared. Mr. Morton went scarlet. “You have names?”

“Yes. Not all of them, although some of them may rat on the rest. Christine Hargensen appeared to be the ringleader

as usual.”

“Chris and her Mortimer Snerds,” Morton murmured.

“Yes. Tina Blake, Rachel Spies, Helen Shyres, Donna Thibodeau and her sister Mary Lila Grace, Jessica Upshaw. And Sue Snell.” She frowned. “You wouldn't expect a trick like that from Sue. She's never seemed the type for this kind of a-a stunt.”

“Did you talk to the girls involved?”

Miss Desjardin chuckled unhappily. “I got them the hell out of there. I was too flustered. And Carrie was having hysterics.”

“Um.” He steepled his fingers. “Do you plan to talk to them?”

“Yes.” But she sounded reluctant.

“Do I detect a note of-”

“You probably do,” she said glumly. “I'm living in a glass house, see. I understand how those girls felt. The whole thing just made me want to take the girl and shake her. Maybe there's some kind of instinct about menstruation that makes women want to snarl, I don't know. I keep seeing Sue Snell and the way she looked.”

“Um,' Mr. Morton repeated wisely. He did not understand women and had no urge at all to discuss menstruation.

“I'll talk to them tomorrow,” she promised, rising. “Rip them down one side and up the other.”

“Good. Make the punishment suit the crime. And if you feel you have to send any of them to, ah, to me, feel free-”

“I will,” she said kindly. “By the way, a light blew out while I was trying to calm her down. It added the final touch.”