“She’ll come upon me here, plump,” he said with a laugh. “I wonder what she’ll say, and whether she’ll look at me again in that pretty, shy way, same as she did when I took the school pence! Hah, things are going on right for you, my boy; and what could be better?”
There was no answer to his question, so Samuel Chute went on making arrangements, like the Eastern man with his basket of crockery ware.
“I’ll tell you what we’ll do; we’ll put both the old ladies together in one house, while we live in the other. Nothing could be easier. I say, isn’t it time she was here?”
He glanced at his watch, and it certainly seemed to be time for Hazel to have reached as far. She was not long, however, in appearing now round the bend of the road, looking brighter and more attractive than Samuel Chute had seen her yet, for there was a warm flush in her cheek, and her eyes were sparkling and full of vivacity. But in spite of this the schoolmaster drew his breath through his teeth with a spiteful hiss, and as he leaned a little forward and stared at Hazel Thorne, his countenance assumed the same ugly look, full of dislike and spite, that had been seen in his mother’s face only a short time before.
Chapter Sixteen.
A Match-Making Mamma.
“Don’t you think, George, that dear Beatrice looks rather pale and thin?” said Mrs Canninge.
“Who—Beatrice Lambent?” said the young man, raising his eyes from his paper at breakfast.