Walter drove back in despair.
“I’ll stop at the schoolhouse and see the schoolmarm,” he said, “and ask what is to be done, though I know she will laugh at me.”
The school had just been dismissed; and May only lingered to set away her few books in her desk.
“Ah, Miss Elliott,” said Walter confusedly. “I—I—I’m afraid it doesn’t look hopeful—about—about our Hall service?”
“Why not?”
He laughed, and blushed, and said frankly, “I went ahead and got everything ready but the minister!”
“You hadn’t spoken to him!”
“No, and it was just like me, mother would say. I got my cart and had it nicely packed, or you did rather,” a compliment which made the young teacher look quite rosy,—“I got my cart, but I hadn’t thought about my horse! When I spoke just now to Dr. Ellton, he said his hands were full, and he couldn’t possibly come. Just like me! I needed it perhaps, for I was saying, ‘What a grand thing I am helping along!’ And here is my cart all packed and ready to start, and where is my horse?”
The young teacher was amused and pleased with Walter’s frankness.
“Oh, well, Plympton, we won’t give up. I have done things that way myself. Somebody can take the service, I know. Isn’t there any one else at St. John’s?”