“Mr. Barker wished me to change some of my rules about hours, and I was not able to accommodate him, that was all,” answered Elizabeth, who found herself eminently puzzled by the interest in her affairs displayed by this strange visitor.
“I’ll warrant he did. And you wouldn’t make the change. A grand good joke that. I know him; he’s my first cousin once removed, and the only relation I’ve left. And he is going to try and break up your school. I’d like to see him do it.”
“I don’t believe that Mr. Barker would do anything so unjust,” said Elizabeth, flushing.
“Yes, he would. I had it from his own lips. But he shan’t; not while I’m in the flesh. What did you say your name was?”
“Whyte—Elizabeth Whyte.”
“And what made you become a school-teacher, I should like to know?”
“I had to earn my living.”
“Humph! In my day, girls as pretty as you got married; but now the rich ones are those who get husbands, and those who are poor have to tend shop instead of baby.”
“I know a number of girls who were poor, who have excellent husbands,” said Elizabeth quietly, spurred into coming to the rescue of the sex she despised. “But,” she added, “there are many girls nowadays who are poor who prefer to remain single.” She was amused at having been led into so unusual a discussion with this queer old gentleman.
“Bah! That caps the climax. When pretty girls pretend that they don’t wish to be married, the world is certainly turned upside down. Well, I like your spirit, though I don’t approve of your methods. I just dropped in to say that if Horace Barker does cause you any trouble, you’ve a friend across the way. Good-morning.”