“Oh my goodness me!” exploded Alexia.
“By this time, the snow had piled up fast. What promised to be a heavy storm had become a reality, and it was whirling and drifting dreadfully. You must remember that I had on my little thin jacket, instead—”
“Oh Miss Salisbury!” screamed several girls, “I forgot that.”
“Don't tell any more,” sobbed another—“don't, Miss Salisbury.”
“I want you to hear this story,” said Miss Salisbury quietly. “Remember, I did it all myself. And the saddest part of it is what I made others suffer; not my own distress.”
“Sister, if you only won't proceed!” Miss Anstice abruptly leaned over the outer fringe of girls.
“I am getting on to the end,” said Miss Salisbury, with a smile. “Well, girls, I won't prolong the misery for you. I climbed into that stage, it seemed to me, more dead than alive. The old stage-driver, showing as much of his face as his big fur cap drawn well over his ears would allow, looked at me compassionately.
“'Sakes alive!' I can hear him now. 'Hain't your folks no sense to let a young thing come out in that way?'
“I was so stiff, all I could think of was, that I had turned into an icicle, and that I was liable to break at any minute. But I couldn't let that criticism pass.
“'They—they didn't let me—I've come from school,' I stammered.