“I can’t help it, Betsey,” he cried; “I can’t help it. I never had it before, but I’ve got it badly now, dear; and I ain’t a bit ashamed to own it to you.”
“Oh, Bill!”
“Don’t try to stop me, Betsey.”
“But you won’t do anything foolish, dear?”
“It wouldn’t be foolish if it was her,” he said excitedly.
“No, Bill, I suppose not; but I don’t like her sending for you to come.”
“There, there,” he cried, “I won’t hear another word.” And he proved it by hurriedly taking his hat and going down straight to the school, leaving his sister in tears, and Ann Straggalls deep in cake.
Mr Chute was on the look-out, and saw him pass, and directly after the schoolmaster took up a slate and a pencil, and placing the slate against the partition, began to write thereon, with his back to the boys, but with his eager eyes gazing through the slit at where Hazel was busy with her pupils.
A minute later he saw Mr William Forth Burge enter the schoolroom and shake hands. Hazel spoke to him, but the words did not reach Chute’s ears; and soon after, as the hands pointed to twelve, the children were dismissed, and Hazel and Mr William Forth Burge were alone, but, to Chute’s great disgust they went out and into the cottage.
“Well, of all the shabby—Oh, I can’t stand this!” cried the schoolmaster, stamping his feet. “It’s too bad.”