He had ploughed across and back several times when he saw Millie advancing along the edge of the field. Hoping she had come to say that she was sorry she had teased Ellen, he left the horses standing with their noses against the fence and went to meet her. She was flushed and out of breath.
"She has gone!" she called. "She took a satchel!"
Matthew asked stupidly, "Who has gone?"
"Why, Ellen! Leaving me with all the work and on Monday yet!"
"Where has she gone?"
"To Harrisburg to Mrs. Sassaman, as she said she would. She left the number and you are to send the big satchel."
Matthew's first coherent thought was that the neighbors would say that he had driven Ellen away. Nothing could so entirely and permanently disgrace him. He laid the blame for this unfortunate happening where it belonged.
"It's all your fault!"
Millie stood still, flushing, like Matthew, a deep red, and then growing pale. The moment marked the end of one era in her life and the beginning of another.
"My fault! When you wouldn't leave her go to school and wouldn't leave her have her money! I guess you couldn't get any one to agree with you in that! She has nothing against me whatever; she was as pleasant as could be and she kissed me good-bye. Did she even walk out here to say good-bye to you? No, she didn't. She told me to say good-bye." Millie's voice grew shriller and shriller. She forgot that hitherto she had never "had words" with Matthew and that she had proudly contrasted herself in this respect with her father and mother.