I didn't go, of course. I just stood there twisting my handkerchief in my fingers; and, of course, right away he saw me. He had sat down then.
"Mary, didn't you hear me?" he demanded.
"Yes, sir, but—Father, I can't go back to that school," I choked.
And I began to cry.
"But I tell you that you must."
I shook my head.
"I can't."
"Do you mean that you defy me as you did your Aunt Jane this morning?—that you refuse to go back to school?"
"Yes, sir."
For a minute he sat and stared at me just as Aunt Jane had done; then he lifted his head and threw back his shoulders as if he was throwing off a heavy weight.
"Come, come, Mary," he said sternly. "I am not a patient man, and my temper has reached the breaking point. You will go back to school and you will go now. I mean that, Mary."