School had closed early, and though the boys and girls had lingered long over the parting, there was none in sight now as Meadowcroft passed through the street, and none of the South Paulding children at the station. Of course they would all have taken the earlier train, he said to himself, as he realized that he had been hoping for Tommy’s company home. And in any event, Tommy had probably walked, as he always did except when he stayed for the extra lesson after school.
As he made his way through the aisle of the train, however, he saw Betty Pogany ahead, sitting alone, and joined her. Betty had had an errand in Paulding to do for her father which kept her, and as the village dress-maker was waiting for Rose, she had gone home with some of the other girls.
Betty’s coldness was always gentle. But her gravity did not lift, and after the word of greeting, she turned and gazed steadily out the window. There was something demure, something at once pretty and pathetic, in the dignity of her manner. Vain, silly, headstrong, as he was forced to believe her, he saw only sweetness, nevertheless, in her deep brown eyes and goodness that was almost nobility in her face. After all, the folly hadn’t gone deeply; it hadn’t really hurt her. In some manner, the girl must have felt herself privileged; she had somehow believed that she had a charter to do wrong rightly. Certainly she looked to-day rather a martyr than a sinner.
“The last day is over,” he said quietly as the train started. “And now that the relationship of pupil and teacher is over between us, Betty, I wonder if we can’t slip back into the simpler one that preceded it? Can’t we forget what has happened and be friends again?”
The girl had nothing to say. He didn’t know whether it was that she couldn’t or wouldn’t speak.
“Of course it has been hard, awfully hard,” he admitted, “but perhaps you haven’t realized that it has been hard for me, too. I felt forced to act as I did. And yet, although I tried to do only what seemed to be my plain duty in the circumstances, I daresay I bungled things sadly. And perhaps if I hadn’t felt personally rather hurt, I might have had more patience. If I was harsh and over-severe, Betty, I am truly sorry and ask you to pardon and forget.”
The girl’s white cheeks flushed. Turning, she raised her dark, gentle eyes steadily to his. She was Bouncing Bet no longer. She was thin and worn and truly martyr-like with that seemingly fixed expression of sadness upon her innocent, childish face.
“I can never forgive you, Mr. Meadowcroft,” she returned in a voice which though very low wasn’t quite steady. “And forget—I can never, never to the end of my life forget—what you have done. I ought——”
She choked, clasped her hands tightly, and drew a long, sobbing breath. Then she went on.
“O, I don’t know what I ought to have done!” she cried despairingly. “I don’t know what I could have done, only—I ought to have done something! But I didn’t know—I’m only a little girl, really, though I look so big—and anyhow—I couldn’t have stood out against everybody. And—everybody would have been against me.”