The vicar came down on the day following the examination, and told her that the inspector had expressed himself greatly disappointed at the state of the school.
“I am sorry to say, Miss Thorne, that he casually let drop his intention of speaking rather hardly respecting our state, which—I am afraid I must tell you his exact words.”
“If you please, sir,” said Hazel quietly; and she raised her eyes with the strange effect of making him lower his, and speak in a quick, indirect way.
“He said that the state the school was the more to be deplored from the fact that we had secured a young lady of evident power of teaching. The object lesson, he said, was most masterly, and therefore—”
The vicar stopped and raised his eyes for a moment to meet the dear, candid look that seemed to search his soul.
“Pray tell me all, sir.”
“I—I hesitate. Miss Thorne,” he said, “because I do not think the inspector’s opinion was just.”
“I thank you, sir,” said Hazel gravely.
“He—he suggested that you could not be giving your heart to your work, and that in consequence the children were far more backward than in either of the neighbouring schools.”
“It must be from want of ability, sir,” said Hazel; “for I cannot charge myself with neglecting my duties in the slightest degree.”