"You'll see," she said, fighting down her tears—"you'll see I shall be better."
She felt the other hand laid softly on her head, and neither of the two spoke or moved for a long time.
A sharp ring broke the spell, and the quick following clatter of "E. Gano's" knocker sent all gentle influences flying.
"Miss Appleby!" Val sprang up. Yes. They could hear her voice. Before Venus had time to come and say she was in the parlor, Mrs. Gano had opened her own door and closed it behind her. Val stood looking out of the window, trembling with anxiety, registering vows that if she were let off this time, if by some miracle she were not expelled, she would be such an honor to the family, such a comfort to her father, that he would be encouraged to live practically forever.
Emmie presently opened the door very softly, and crept in.
"She's just goin', I think," whispered the little sister, who seldom bore a grudge. "Oh, she has been getting it!"
"Not gran'ma?"
Emmie squirmed with suppressed merriment at this notion.
"I should think not! Miss Appleby's been getting it. Gran'ma said they were making a mounting out of a molehill—and expelling people did the school no good. Said you'd tell Miss Beach you were sorry, and that was a good deal, 'cause you didn't like beggin' pardings."