But Miss Dawes did not care for dinner. Like Mr. Tidditt and the captain, she had had about all the Debby Beasley she wanted.
“Yes, yes, you will stop, too,” affirmed the widow. “I want to tell you more about Blazeton. I can see that advertisement this minute, right afore my eyes—'Information wanted of my husband, Edward Higgins. Five foot eight inches tall, sandy complected, brown hair, and yellowish mustache; not lame, but has a peculiar slight limp with his left foot—'”
“What?” asked the schoolmistress, stopping short.
“Hey? 'Has a peculiar limp with his left foot.' I remember how Desire used to talk about that limp. She said 'twas almost as if he stuttered with his leg. He hurt it when he was up in Montana, and—”
“Oh!” cried Miss Dawes. The color had left her face.
“Yes. You see he used to be a miner or somethin' up there. He'd never say much about his younger days, but one time he did tell that. I'd just got as far as that limp when the sulky upset. Talk about bein' surprised! I never was so surprised in my life as when that horse critter rared up and—”
Phoebe interrupted. Her color had come back, and her eyes were shining.
“Mrs. Beasley,” she cried, “I think I shall change my mind. I believe I will stay to dinner after all. I'm EVER so much interested in Arizona.”
Bailey and the teacher began their long drive home about four o'clock. The buggy axle had been fixed, and the wind was less violent. Mr. Bangs was glum and moody. He seemed to be thinking.
“Say, teacher,” he said at length, “I'd like to ask a favor of you. If it ain't necessary, I wish you wouldn't say nothin' about that upsettin' business to the folks to home. It does sound so dum foolish! I'll never hear the last of it.”