"Who is she?" Hester had almost asked, when the woman turned aside into a path leading to the shed among the elms.
"She'll have to shut up shop next week," said Mr. Sam, following Hester's gaze. "I declare, Miss Marvin, one would think the old woman had ill-wished you, by the way you are staring after her. Don't believe in witchcraft, I hope?"
"I have never seen her till now, and I do feel sorry for her."
"She's not fit to teach, and never was."
"She's setting me a lesson in punctuality, at any rate," said Hester, forcing a little laugh, glad of an excuse to end the conversation. But along the road and at intervals during the first and second lesson-hours the face of Mrs. Butson haunted her.
In the hour before dinner, while she sat among the little ones correcting their copy-books, the door-latch clicked, and she looked up with a start— to see the woman herself standing upon the threshold! Archelaus Libby, who had been chalking on the blackboard at lightning speed a line of figures for his mental arithmetic class, turned to announce them, and paused with a click in his throat which seemed to answer that of the latch. In the sudden hush Hester felt her cheek paling. Somehow she missed the courage with which she had met Tom Trevarthen.
"Good-morning!" said Mrs. Butson harshly. "'Tisn't forbidden to come in, I hope?"
"Good-morning," Hester found voice to answer. "You may come in, and welcome, if you wish us well."
"I'm Sarah Butson. As for wishing well or ill to 'ee, we'll leave that alone. I've come to listen, not to interrup'." She advanced into the room and pointed a finger at Archelaus Libby. "Is that your male teacher? He bain't much to look at, but I'm told he's terrible for sums."
"You shall judge for yourself. Go on with your lesson, Archelaus; and you, Mrs. Butson, take a seat if you will."