Miss Fanny read Mary Agatha’s note, and looking down at her said that she wondered, since every desk was in use in its dual capacity, if Mary Agatha were to devote herself quite closely to reducing pounds to pence, would it not be possible for her to forget her nearness to things secular?
Mary Agatha was poor in Arithmetic. And Miss Fanny was laughing in her eyes. Was Miss Fanny laughing at Mary Agatha?
Mary Agatha cried at recess. She said her Papa furnished pokers and tongs and shovels and dust-pans for the public schools, and he would see to it that she had a seat to herself if she wanted it.
But when the class went up from recess, there was a seat for Mary Agatha. Miss Fanny had sent the note down to Mr. Bryan, and he had arranged it. It was a table from the office, and a stool. For want of other place, they stood beneath the blackboard in front of the class. It was a high stool.
Being told, Mary Agatha gathered her books together and went and climbed upon her stool, apart from things secular.
Miss Fanny turned to Mr. Bryan. “For the propagation of infant Saint Stylites,” said Miss Fanny.
“Ur-r—exactly,” said Mr. Bryan. He said it a little, perhaps, doubtfully.
Suddenly Mr. Bryan grew red. He had caught Miss Fanny’s eyes laughing, and saw her mouth twitching. Was Miss Fanny laughing at Mr. Bryan? What about?
Mr. Bryan went out. He closed the door. It closed sharply.
Then everything came at once. Hot weather, and roses and syringa piling Miss Fanny’s desk, and Reviews for Examination, and Confirmations.