“She raised a timid and deep-dyed hand.”
Still not a word from Miss Lizzie. Only a cold and prolonged survey of the scene, only an entire suspension of action in the Fourth Reader room while Miss Lizzie waited.
At last Emmy Lou was ready to resume work. She raised a timid and deep-dyed hand, and made known her need.
“Please, I have no trial-paper.”
Miss Lizzie’s lips unclosed. Had she waited for this? “Then,” said Miss Lizzie, “you will stay after school.”
Emmy Lou’s heart burned, the colour slowly left her cheeks.
It was something besides Emmy Lou that looked straight out of Emmy Lou’s eyes at Miss Lizzie. It was Judgment.
Miss Lizzie was not fair.