"Oh, no, I didn't think of that; I only thought of getting away from here."
"Getting away is not always the best plan," he replied, his pen still moving rapidly.
"Is it true? Is it all true?"
"It is all true. Jerome Holmes was president of a bank in this city. I want you in moral science this afternoon."
"Thank you," said Marjorie, after a moment. "I will stay."
She returned to the dressing-room, taking a volume of Dick from the book-case as she passed it; and sitting in a warm corner, half concealed by somebody's shawl and somebody's cloak, she read, or thought she read, until the bell for the short afternoon session sounded.
Moral science was especially interesting to her, but the subject this afternoon kept her trouble fresh in her mind; it was Property, the use of the institution of Property, the history of Property, and on what the right of Property is founded.
A whisper from Miss Parks reached her:
"Isn't it a poky subject? All I care to know is what is mine and what isn't, and to know what right people have to take what isn't theirs."
The hour was ended at last, and she was free. How could she ever enter that schoolroom again? She hurried along the streets, grown older since the morning. Home would be her sanctuary; but there was Miss Prudence! Her face would tell the tale and Miss Prudence's eyes would ask for it. Would it be better for Prue, for Aunt Prue, to know or not to know? Miss Prudence had written to her once that some time she would tell her a story about herself; but could she mean this story?