Then she stopped suddenly with her hand upon the door knob. Miss Burton was there, sitting in an easy-chair drawn up beside the cheerful little fire which was blazing away on the hearth. She was sitting in a very dejected attitude, leaning forward with her head bowed upon her hands—Gerry caught a momentary glimpse of her as the door opened. But before the girl could make any apology, the mistress was sitting bolt upright in her usual rigid position and glaring at the intruder with all her accustomed sternness.
"What do you mean by bursting into my sitting-room in this manner?" she inquired severely.
"I—I'm very sorry," faltered Gerry. "I did knock, twice—but nobody answered, so I thought you must be out."
"So you came in to spy round my room in my absence, I suppose?" said the mistress bitterly.
Gerry flushed hotly with indignation.
"No, indeed I didn't, Miss Burton!" she exclaimed. "I was bringing you my lines, and as you weren't here I thought I'd just put them somewhere on your table where you would be sure to see them when you came back."
"Lines. What lines?" asked the mistress as she held out her hand for the papers. Then, as Gerry gave them to her and she caught sight of the sentence written out so many times, the recollection of the chestnut episode came back to her.
"Ah yes, I remember," she said. "So you have condescended to do these for me, have you? What about the other two girls, Joanna and Nita? Are they writing theirs also?"
"Yes, but they had more to do than I had. They'll bring theirs along as soon as they've finished them," said Gerry, feeling suddenly more embarrassed and uncomfortable than ever. A bright flame from the fire had sprung up, and by its light Gerry saw something which filled her with dismay.
Miss Burton's eyes behind the gold-rimmed spectacles were unmistakably red and wet with tears! She had been crying! Gerry, who had cried so often during this unhappy term, knew the signs too well to be deceived.