“Are you going to teach somewhere else, Miss Hale?” asked Helen Adams.
“Teach? Oh, only one private pupil, I think,” said Miss Hale soberly.
“I hope you’re not tired out,” observed Babbie Hildreth politely.
“Oh, no, I’m not at all tired since my restful vacation,” responded Miss Hale cordially.
The girls exchanged covert glances. Nobody quite dared to put the question that was uppermost in everybody’s thought. No one could think of any more “feelers” and there seemed to be nothing else to talk about. So an awkward silence fell upon the circle, which Ethel, in her capacity of hostess, made no effort to lift.
“What—what a beautiful night it is,” said Mary Brooks at last in desperation. But no one paid any attention to her, for just at that moment Betty Wales gave a little cry of triumph.
“Ethel,” she cried, “you’re engaged! You’re just trying to bother us by looking so sober. I can see your lips twitch from here.”
Ethel’s preternaturally solemn face flashed suddenly into a radiant smile. “I wondered how long it would take you to come to it,” she said demurely. “Yes, little sister, I’m engaged.”
“There’s one thing I’ve guessed right about,” cried Betty Wales, looking triumphantly at Mary Brooks. “Oh, Ethel, I’m so glad. I was so afraid you didn’t like him, and I think he’s so nice—we all do.”