Just before closing time Blue Bonnet, feeling vaguely that something was wrong again, looked up. “Did you speak to me, Miss Rankin?” she asked; and wondered at the sudden ripple of amusement that ran through the room.
Miss Rankin’s lips were drawn until only the faintest line of red showed. “Yes,” she said, “I was speaking to you, Elizabeth. You will remain this afternoon to make up your history and English—your Latin you may make up to-morrow afternoon.”
Blue Bonnet raised her eyes in swift protest. It would mean hours! And she had been counting the minutes until she should be free!
But there was no relenting in Miss Rankin’s face. Blue Bonnet watched the rest gathering up books and papers, and making ready to depart, with heart growing more rebellious every moment.
Sarah’s look of pity, Kitty’s shrug of impatience, all the little glances of sympathy, protest, or amusement, only helped to fan still hotter the flame of rebellion in her heart.
It happened that she was the only pupil detained that afternoon; and, as presently the long line of boys and girls filed out to the march Miss Rankin was playing outside in the assembly-room, Blue Bonnet, gathering up her own books, walked deliberately out of the side entrance.
Straight for the big meadow back of her grandmother’s house she made—the meadow that was a very little akin to the prairie. One line to Uncle Cliff, and her way back was open; but stronger still than her homesick longings was the pride that would not let her write that line.
She was sitting on the ground, a little huddled up heap of misery, resisting even Solomon’s attempts at comfort and diversion, when Alec came across the meadow.
He stopped short. “How long have you been here? Kitty said you had to stay in.”
“I didn’t stay.”