But these remarks had no effect on Tavia.
"I believe," she began bravely, "that I was the real cause of the trouble. I did swing Sarah too high, I was angry about Memorial Day, and blamed her for taking Dorothy's place. I am very sorry."
At that moment a man appeared at the door. It was Squire Sanders!
In he tramped, his cane beating a formidable march in advance of his steps, and his green-black hat kept on his head making a poor show of his manners in a girls' schoolroom.
"I just come in to settle up that little matter of the Ford girl," he drawled. "I see you've got that wild harum-scarum Travers' girl back again."
"The matter has been settled." Miss Ellis interrupted.
"Has, eh? Well, I've not been notified to that effect and I continue my services until I am officially notified to quit," he announced, bringing his cane down in a "full stop."
How odious his presence was in the room at that moment. Tavia's face crimsoned when he referred to her as a "harum-scarum" and only a warning look from Dorothy kept her from replying to his insult.
"I think, Squire Sanders," said Miss Ellis, "that Mr. and Mrs. Ford are satisfied the affair was an accident. It was a misunderstanding—blaming the pupils."
"Accident or no accident, that's no account to me. I'm on this case, and I intend to see it through."