Unfortunately, Josey was away from home for a visit of a week, and the explanation was, therefore, necessarily postponed.
"I wish I might tell you, uncle," said Ellen, when she had again squeezed herself into her seat beside the doctor in his buggy. "I couldn't think why she should wish to keep it secret."
Mrs. Collins was greatly disappointed. "Not on my own account," she said, "but in order to satisfy Miss Granby that our confidence in Ellen is deserved."
"You and I are satisfied; aren't we, pet?" added the merry doctor, tapping her cheek.
"I'm sorry Miss Granby don't believe me," faltered the poor child, after a glance into the teacher's uncompromising face.
"That is not of the slightest consequence," the doctor began, when, meeting a cautionary glance from his wife, he added, "compared with the approval of your own conscience. Miss Granby does not know you as well as we do, or she would not have been so ready to believe a report coming from such a source."
The teacher suddenly remembered that Dr. Collins was chairman of the school committee, and that her capabilities as an instructor might be questioned after this. She made an awkward attempt to justify the proceeding and then took her leave.
The half-hour passed at the supper table was usually a merry one; but on this occasion, no one seemed disposed to talk. Ellen ate mechanically, her thoughts appearing absorbed in a reverie; and Mary, who had heard what had passed, having been especially requested by her mother not to allude to the subject for the present.
The doctor, having listened to all the particulars of the teacher's visit, had ventured the remark to his wife that personal pique at hearing herself ridiculed had prompted the interview,—that he was mistaken in the woman, having always before considered her a person of good sense.
At last Ellen broke the silence by exclaiming,—