She blushed deeply, and sat looking down as she fussed with her handkerchief. She was a bit frightened by the serious air of that big young man.
"It isn't much," he went on. "I'd like you to help me teach a little. To-morrow morning I shall make a map on the blackboard, and while I am doing it I'd like you to conduct the school. When you have finished with the primer class I'll be ready to take hold again."
She had a puzzled look.
"I thought you were going to punish me," she answered, smiling.
"For what?" he inquired.
"Whispering," said she.
"Oh, yes! But you have read Walter Scott, and you know ladies are to be honoured, not punished. I shouldn't know how to do such a thing. When you've become a teacher you'll see I'm right about whispering. May I walk home with you?"
Polly had then a very serious look. She turned away, biting her lip, in a brief struggle for self-mastery.
"If you care to," she whispered.
They walked away in silence.