CHAPTER XXII
ELSIE'S DIARY
(Written in her French Exercise Book by Miss Elsie Stennis.)
I left home on Friday morning at about the usual time—perhaps five minutes sooner. It was a fine morning—wintry, bright, just enough snow underfoot to crisp the road, and enough tingle in the air to make the buds of the willows glitter with rime.
I was reading as I walked. I always do on my way to school, having learned when quite a girl. It gets over the road. Besides, if you don't want particularly to see any one—that is a reason.
Not that I was expecting to see anybody—least of all Joe Yarrow. He had his "Caws"—let him be content. That was what I was saying to myself. But just at the corner where there is a square inset—or outset—in which they crack stones with a hammer to mend the bad places, I slackened a little. There was such an interesting piece in the French grammar—all about the rules for the conversational use of "en" and "y"—that I went a bit slower, just to make it out. The sense was difficult to follow, you know.
Besides, I heard a noise like the sound of footsteps behind me. I knew that it could only be that donkey Joe, broke loose from his rookery; so, of course, I did not turn round, nor make the least sign. Why should I, indeed? I am not Harriet Caw.
But I heard a voice, which I knew in a minute was not Joe's, calling out—
"Miss Stennis! Miss Stennis!"
That made me turn, as, of course, it would any one, just to see who it could be.