Lois kept on as if she did not hear. Her face was flushed, and her head seemed full of beating pulses.
One of the children, a thin little girl in a blue dress, turned around and grimaced at Mrs. Babcock; another pulled Lois' dress. “Teacher, Jenny Whitcomb is makin' faces at Mis' Babcock,” she drawled.
“Jenny!” said Lois sharply; and the little girl turned her face with a scared nervous giggle. “You mustn't ever do such a thing as that again,” said Lois. She reached down and took the child's little restive hand and led her along.
Lois had not much farther to go. The children all clamored, “Good-by, teacher!” when she turned in at her own gate.
She went in through the sitting-room to the kitchen, and settled down into a chair with her hat on.
“Well, so you've got home,” said her mother; she was moving about preparing supper. She smiled anxiously at Lois as she spoke.
Lois smiled faintly, but her forehead was frowning. “Has that Mrs. Babcock been here?” she asked.
“Yes. Did you meet her?”
“Yes, I did; and I'd like to know what she meant telling me I'd ought to take a vacation, and I looked bad. I wish people would let me alone tellin' me how I look.”
“She meant well, I guess,” said her mother, soothingly. “She said she was goin' to send you over a dish of her honey.”