"Oh, I hope so."
"So do I," said Harold, making a face. "You see, my marks in Latin are about as bad as they make 'em. It may occur to mother to let Miss Turner use up her spare time on me. Wow!"
"Anyhow," said Jeanne, "I'm much obliged to you for trying to help."
All too soon it was June. School was out and Jeanne hadn't passed in a single study. Even her deportment had received a very low mark. Miss Turner, contrary to Jeanne's fervent hope, had gladly accepted the position Mrs. Huntington had offered her. Mrs. Huntington broke the discouraging news at the breakfast table.
"Your lessons will begin at nine o'clock next Monday, Jeannette," said she, firmly believing that she was doing the right thing by a strangely backward student. "With only one pupil, Miss Turner will be able to give all her attention to you."
Again Harold agreed with his cousin. "I'm sorry for you," said he. "All of Miss Turner's attention is more than any one human pupil could stand."
"Mother," suggested Clara, not without malice, "why don't you let Miss Turner help Harold with his lessons—ouch! you beast! stop pinching me."
"Why, that," approved Mrs. Huntington, "is a very good idea. I'm glad you mentioned it. Still, you are going to your grandmother's so soon—I fear Harold's Latin will have to be postponed."
So great was Harold's relief that he collapsed in his chair.
The summer was to prove a dreary one. Besides a daily dose of Miss Turner, Jeanne was worried, because, for six weeks, there had been no letter from her father. Previously, he had written at least twice a month and, from time to time, had sent her money; that she might have a little that was all her own. Indeed, Mr. Duval, who had no lack of pride, had every intention of repaying the Huntingtons as soon as he could for whatever they had expended for his daughter. But that would take time, of course.