The clock struck six. Tommy seized his cap, and ran, calling back “So long!” from the door. Meadowcroft understood that he feared to be late for tea. During periods when his practise of magic was suspended, Tommy always strove so to keep within bounds as to regain the privilege at the appointed time. Meadowcroft watched the boy loping up the avenue, then fell to musing.
He realized that he ought to feel gratified that Betty Pogany had so speedily handed on the lighted torch to another. The girl had good stuff in her, truly, and an active and supple mind to have applied the principle given her so promptly and daringly to one far worse handicapped than herself. Of course it was a fine thing to do, and Meadowcroft knew he ought to be pleased; but he couldn’t help regretting that Betty had been moved to act so precipitately. He had wanted the girl to have a taste—a deep, long draught of happiness. He wanted her to have her fling, to be a happy, careless, frolicking school-girl. Instead of that, she had, almost in the act of striking for her freedom, fettered herself with a burden that would add to her years instead of reducing them. Instead of being a romping little girl, she would be an anxious old woman.
Humphrey Meadowcroft shook his head and sighed deeply. And yet there was a sort of rueful smile in his eyes.
CHAPTER X
TOMMY passed on Mr. Meadowcroft’s word to Betty and the girl went in the next day after school. Prepared as he had been to see a transformation, Meadowcroft was nevertheless almost startled to see the change in the girl’s face that had been brought about within ten days. How was it possible that that mature, “settled” expression could have been displaced by the eager, almost adventurous look that is the very quintessence of youth? Even the “bee in the bonnet” theory couldn’t wholly account for the marvel. The potentiality of it must have been latent for many a day.
“I’ll come in again Saturday if you want me to, Mr. Meadowcroft,” the girl said sweetly, “but I can’t stay to-day more than fifteen minutes. I’ve got to do all my practising before I go to walk with Rose. Usually I do over half in the morning.”
“But you overslept this morning?” he guessed.
The girl shook her head.
“No, sir, but Aunt Sarah made me sweep my room all over—take everything out and sweep and dust and put ’em all back. I always do it Saturdays, but I was in a hurry last Saturday and didn’t do it very well. And Aunt Sarah was using the dust-pan and I swept the dirt all in one corner behind the door and was going to take it up after dinner and forgot it. And Aunt Sarah found it yesterday!”
The girl smiled faintly. Meadowcroft understood the rest.