Then she turned and left me.
An elderly lady shook my hand in welcome. She had a soft hand, and a worried look as if something had been going wrong, and there was a little curly-haired girl standing in a far corner, with her face hidden against the wall, who was sobbing bitterly. Somebody had been drawing a picture on the blackboard. It showed a stout man with bow-legs, and an ugly face, and underneath was written "Miss Lucy's Beau."
"You can come out of the corner, Miss Armitage," Miss Lucy said, in an icy tone.
She pointed an accusing finger at the blackboard.
"As for that dreadful—that distinctly unladylike—performance of yours on the blackboard I shall allow it to remain until the noon recess."
The little girls all looked at one another.
"Shan't I rub it right off, Miss Lucy?" a small person in a long apron demanded, eagerly.
"Oh, teacher, teacher, let me rub it off!" another echoed.
She had bright red hair and a plaid dress.