Delia was as good as her word. Her excuse was accepted, and she obtained permission to carry up Emily's dinner herself. Mrs. Pomeroy soon followed to ascertain Emily's condition, satisfied herself that the attack was not a dangerous one, and would be best treated by allowing the patient to lie still, excused her from duty, and sent her an entertaining book to read; rather to the disgust of Miss Thomas, who was accustomed to look upon all illness among the girls as only a pretext to escape from school duties, and who thought that Emily might as well have amused herself with her algebra and slate.
By tea-time, Emily was so far recovered as to be able to go down, but all the girls noticed her paleness and want of appetite. Delia had told all inquirers that Emily had fainted in consequence of standing too long at the blackboard, and they were all very ready to believe it—the blackboard exercise being a very unpopular innovation introduced by Mr. Hugo.
Almira connected Emily's illness with the affair of the exercise, and decided that there must be something in it after all, but on hinting her suspicions to Delia, she received from that young lady such an answer as convinced her that she had much better hold her peace.
All things now went on in their accustomed train for some time. Delia handed in her exercise every day, and received a paper in return, but Emily neither knew nor sought to know whether the correspondence was continued. Mr. Hugo won golden opinions from all sorts of people about the house, unless it might be from Mr. Fletcher, who never expressed any opinion whatever. The girls liked him because he gave moderate lessons, and explained them clearly—and Mrs. Pomeroy was pleased with his manners, and thought his appearance creditable to the school. Emily regarded him with mingled disgust and terror, but she kept out of his way, and never spoke to him if she could help it.
The end of February was marked with extraordinary mild weather for the season. The brook in the garden babbled as freely as in summer, there was no ice on the lake, and warm clothing was really burdensome. If it had only been as pleasant under foot as over head, the weather would have been delightful; even as it was, many long walks were enjoyed in spite of the mud, and woeful were the complaints of the laundress at the number of white skirts and stockings that the young ladies put in the wash. The only really dry promenades in the neighborhood were the long paved walks in the garden, which being swept every day, were always clean and pleasant, and consequently very popular.
"How I should like to come down here by moonlight, sometime," said Emily, one afternoon, when nearly the whole school were amusing themselves on these walks.
"You had better let Miss Thomas hear you say 'moonlight,'" said Belle Faushane, laughing. "She would think you were all ready to make a runaway match to-morrow, and she would watch you as a cat watches a mouse."
"It would not be very difficult to escape from her if she did," observed Emily. "She is so near-sighted that she cannot distinguish countenances six yards off. I would wear spectacles, if I was in her place."
"It would be much better," said Lucy, "but she is so absurdly sensitive on the subject, that there is no use in talking to her about it. The only time I ever got into disgrace with her, was by asking her very innocently, why she did not wear glasses. She did not get over it for a week, and I got more marks during that week than I ever had before or since. But she is a good soul, in spite of her crotchets."
"So she is," said Janet. "It is a pity she should think so much of her personal appearance, for it really injures her influence in the school. I should think any woman could be above thinking all the time, whether she was looking as pretty as she possibly could. It seems so degrading."