“I know,” continued Harriet, speaking in great excitement; “you nasty, horrid spitfire! You find that you have utterly failed—that you have not a chance of getting the position that you so covet; therefore you think you will make an imposing appearance if you withdraw from the competition. But let me tell you, that is monstrously unfair! You ought not to withdraw at the eleventh hour.”
“That is my affair,” said Robina. “Even if I were elected school-mother to-morrow, I should not accept the position.”
“Oh, wouldn’t you?” said Harriet. “It is so fine to hear you talking in that way; you know perfectly well that you would just give your eyes for it.”
“If that is your opinion, you are welcome to keep it,” said Robina. “But anyhow, my mind is quite made up.”
She was turning to go, when Harriet ran after her.
“Robina,” she said, “do you mean—that is, you will go without saying anything?”
“Ask me no questions; when you are made school-mother, I suppose you will be content: and I suppose—at least I hope you will be good to little Ralph.”
Robina’s lips quivered. Before Harriet could utter another word she had pushed her brusquely aside, and disappeared in the direction towards the house.