"Well, how could it?" demanded Cornelia Mary.
Tom shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know how it could be so cruel," he said, "but maybe it didn't like to have you for a teacher. Fact is, it's gone. The Beans and the Kilpatricks have got work in the sugar factory, and they moved to town. There goes your A Class and your B Class and—"
"Well, the Chart Class isn't gone," interrupted Cornelia Mary, laughing in spite of herself at Tom's antics. "You can have a school if there's only one child in the whole district and little Willie Jessup begins this summer. Poor little fellow, he'll be lonesome."
"No, little Willie won't be lonesome," mocked Tom, "because little Willie's going too. I tell you, Corny, your school's gone. Cheer up, you've got me left. I'll be home all summer. Never mind the Hodgkins district, let it go."
"You go away," retorted Cornelia Mary, struggling with tears, "you're a comfort, aren't you?"
"It was my painful duty, Corny, to tell you before the neighbours did and this is all the thanks I get, just 'go away.' What an ungrateful world it is. Never mind, Corny, if you ever need a friend, you come back to your sweet brother. He'll forgive you."
"Will you go away!" repeated Cornelia Mary.
"Oh, yes," was the reply, "I mustn't stay in a damp place for fear of rheumatism. Better get up your umbrella, Sally," and Tom went away whistling.
Cornelia Mary did cry, at least she cried until Sally Brown appeared to be very much excited about something.
"What is the matter?" asked Mrs. Brown, while Cornelia Mary wiped her eyes and stared.