"Nearly as good as your grandmother, Molly," replied Cecil.
"I meant to apply to grannie as a dernier ressort," said Molly; "but this is much better. Of course, Cecil, you and I have only one thing to say—we think the scheme first-rate. Let us write to Miss Forester in time to catch the mail for London."
"The snow is nearly over; we may as well go back now," said Cecil. "We need not wait for Maurice. But oh, there he is—and how fast he is running! What can be the matter?"
"I say, girls, what do you think?" exclaimed Maurice, rushing up to the two as he spoke, and laughing heartily. "I found that charming Irish Kitty tête-à-tête with Mr. Danvers. There was the old boy, with his hair redder than I have ever seen it, pushed up like a brush from his forehead, his eyes sparkling, his glasses stuck awry on his nose, gesticulating and arguing and scolding Kate O'Connor at the top of his voice. He said that she was a disgrace to any English school; that no boy of ordinary capacities would construe so shamefully; that her quantities were false, her accent vile; that, in short, as a lad of spirit, she ought to give up murdering poor Homer in the future. And there stood Kate in front of him, arguing also, and defending herself. You never heard such a noise as the two were making in all your life. We four lads burst in on the scene, and the fact of our presence woke Mr. Danvers up. He got out of the room somehow, without so much as looking at Kate. When he reached the street, he mopped his forehead and said to me: 'Tell me, Maurice,—for really, in the confusion of the moment, and the cruelty of seeing one of the finest passages in Homer absolutely riddled through with errors, I can't be certain of what I said,—but did I speak to that young person as if she were a boy?'
"'You certainly did, sir,' I replied.
"'Merciful Heavens!' he answered; 'I have a respect for ladies. I respect them in the distance. It is unworthy and ungentlemanly of any man to be rude to a lady; but when a woman puts herself out of her place, when she wounds a scholar, even a humble scholar, in his tenderest sensibilities—— Maurice; my lad, the air of this place is not what it was. I doubt that St. Jude's will agree with me. Can you get me a time-table?'
"'Nothing of the kind,' I answered. 'You've come here now, and you shall stay. There's another girl of our party,—Iphigenia, you'll compare her to,—she shall read a passage of Homer translated into better and purer English than any fellow at Hazlewick could attempt. Now, look here, sir; you've come and you must stay! Jimmy and Charlie and Teddy, come along here this minute!'
"I got them to surround him, Cecil," continued Maurice; "so there is no fear of his escaping; and now do hurry home."
They all set off at a quick pace, and Matilda, icy cold, was able to creep out of her hiding-place. She was very white when she did so, and was trembling a good bit. She had had a narrow escape of a very unpleasant adventure, and at first all her feelings were simply those of congratulation. After a time, however, as her frozen blood began to circulate once more in her veins, other thoughts came to visit her.
"So Kate is not to know," she said to herself. "Kate is to be educated on charity. The peasant girl, who is truly now a pauper, and whom I cordially hate, is to receive the bounty of a complete stranger, and to know nothing about it. Perhaps I can put a spoke into that delightful little arrangement. I must work cautiously. I hate Kate, I hate Cecil! I have no special love for Molly; my turn has come, I fancy, to pay off some old scores."