The old shack looked vastly better where we finally let it rest. There was a clump of bushes alongside that hid some of its battered boards beautifully. The parade ground seemed about three times as big as it had been before.
“That’s more like it,” said Justice approvingly. “Now we can turn around without stubbing our toes against the schoolhouse.”
“What will Mr. Butts say?” I asked, beginning to have cold chills.
“Just wait until that gets between the wind and his nobility!” chuckled Justice. “Never mind, I’ll take all the blame.”
Nevertheless, when the crisis came, and Elijah Butts came driving up on the afternoon of the great occasion, I was there to face the music alone, Justice being nowhere in sight.
Mr. and Mrs. Butts arrived in state, bringing with them a strange lady, who I figured out must be the one Justice had told me about, the one who, like Shelley’s immortal soul, had come from afar and was sent by a Commission to study rural school conditions.
I glanced wildly about to see if Justice were not hovering protectingly near, but there was no sign of him. However, I knew my duties as hostess. Nonchalantly I strolled over to the road to welcome the newcomers. Elijah Butts had just finished tying his horse and, bristling with importance, had turned to help the Commission Lady out of the rig.
“Ah-h, Miss Fairlee,” he said in smooth tones, “this is—ah—Miss Adams, our teacher at the Corners school.”
Then he suddenly jumped half out of his boots and stared over my shoulder as if he had seen a ghost. “Where’s that schoolhouse?” he demanded, in a voice which seemed to indicate he thought I had it in my pocket.
“It’s right over there,” I said calmly, pointing toward the bushes.