"And now you won't make Polly see that Charlotte Chatterton ought not to be stuck into that Recital?" cried Alexia wildly. "Oh, dear me! and you are the only one that can bring Polly to her senses—oh, dear me!"
"Certainly not," said Miss Salisbury, with a little dignified laugh.
"The Recital is Polly's, and she knows best how to manage it."
"Well, we won't applaud, we girls won't," declared Alexia, stiffening up, "when that Charlotte Chatterton sings; but we'll all just look the other way—every single one of us."
"Alexia Rhys!" slowly ejaculated Miss Salisbury in real sorrow.
"Well, we can't; it wouldn't be right," gasped Alexia. "Don't look so,
Miss Salisbury. Oh, dear me, why will Polly act so! Oh, dear me! I wish
Charlotte Chatterton was in the Red Sea."
Miss Salisbury gathered herself up in quiet disapproval; and with a parting look prepared to leave the room.
"Oh, Miss Salisbury," cried Alexia, flying after her, to pluck her gown, "do turn around. Oh, dear me!" and she began to cry as hard as she could.
"When you have come to your better self, Alexia, I will talk with you," said Miss Salisbury distinctly, and she went out, and closed the door.
"Did she say she would—did she—did she?" cried a group of the "old girls," as Miss Salisbury's present scholars called Polly and her set, as they came tiptoeing in. "Why, where are you, Alexia?"
"Here," said a dismal voice from the depths of a corner easy chair. They all rushed at her.