"That's right, Miss Rose!" exclaimed Charley; "say you like fog and all. Are you going to commence teaching to-day?"
"I should prefer commencing at once. Miss Marsh said she was coming this morning, did she not?" Miss Rose asked, lifting her shy brown eyes to Mrs. Marsh.
"Yes, dear. Charley, what time did Natty go home last night?"
"She didn't go home last night; it was half-past two this morning."
"Did she walk?"
"No; the old lady sent that wheelbarrow of hers after her."
"Wheelbarrow!" cried his mother, aghast. "Why, Charley, what do you mean?"
"It's the same thing," said Charley. "I'd as soon go in a wheelbarrow as that carryall. Such a shabby old rattle-trap! It's like nothing but the old dame herself."
"Charley, you ought to be ashamed of yourself. Did you go with her?"
"Not I! I was better engaged. Another gentleman offered his services, but she declined."