Amid praise and good wishes for Nancy Trivett the rose geranium was presently exhibited.
“You can’t always tell the difference between a wasp and a bee,” said Mrs. Whitely. “Both buzz a lot but only one poisons.”
“Well, Nancy is more the wasp—”
“Tommy-lad! You hush!” ordered the mother. “Nancy Trivett leads a lonely life—”
“Moth-er!” mocked Tom. “As if any one could be lonesome with those geese, chickens and—”
But the mother shooed the irrepressible Tom clear off the porch before he could further tell of Nancy Trivett’s diversions.
“I heard Sally Hinds say the new teachers were to board at Blains,” said Mrs. Whitely, while Toni remained at a safe distance.
“Yes?” said Gloria.
“What’s the matter, child? You don’t seem a bit like yourself,” remarked Mrs. Whitely, noting Gloria’s abstraction.
“I’m just tired,” replied the girl, avoiding those eyes so like Tom’s in their kind scrutiny. “And you see—I’m not going to Barbend school next term.”