Little old Miss Seymour took three or four steps down the pavement, then turned and trotted back, the dressy morning robe still gathered in her hand.
“Who do you think is engaged to Mr. John Clemcy?” she asked, looking up at the tall girl.
“Why, our Miss Salisbury,” answered Alexia, ready to cry, “I suppose. That's what you said.”
“Oh, no, I didn't,” said the little old lady. “It's Miss Anstice Salisbury.”
Alexia gave her one look; then took some flying steps across the street, and away down to the Salisbury School. She met a stream of girls in the front hall; and as soon as she saw their faces, she knew that her news was all old.
And they could tell her something more.
“Miss Wilcox is going to be the assistant teacher,” cried Amy Garrett.
“And Miss Salisbury announced it; why were you late, Alexia?” it was a perfect buzz around her ears. “And then she dismissed school; and we're all going down to the drawing-room now, to congratulate Miss Anstice.”
Alexia worked her way to Polly Pepper and clung to her.
“Oh, Alexia, you've got here!” cried Polly delightedly. “And only think, we can keep our Miss Salisbury after all.”