"No, Cebelia, no, Janet," Miss Lucy replied, more in sorrow than in anger. "We will look at this drawing together. We will consider its disloyalty, its bad perspective, one foot is larger than the other notwithstanding all I have taught her! its unchristian spirit!"
She paused for a moment, and seemed to discover me.
"Miss Harcourt, you may take the seat next to Miss Armitage," she added, in haste. "Young ladies, we will go on with the geography lesson."
I followed the little curly-headed girl to a desk, and sat down, and looked at her. And she looked back at me with drowned eyes. She was rather pretty. Suddenly, somehow, I felt sorry for her, bad as she evidently was. I slipped my hand into hers.
"Don't cry!" I whispered, in compassion. "You dear! Don't cry!"
She pushed up the cover of the desk, and kissed me in its shadow.
"I like you," she whispered, ardently.
"And I like you," I whispered back.
"Let's be friends," she suggested.
We kissed again, solemnly, in agreement.