Flea recalled the exact words, and said them over as her death-sentence. For she would be dead when they opened the school-house to-morrow morning. Even her father would not interfere when he heard that she was kept in. He always upheld the teacher's authority, and this teacher was put into his place and backed by Major Duncombe. Her father would not dare to come for her to-night. She slid from the bench to the floor, resting her aching head within her arms upon the seat. The roaring and singing in her head hindered her from hearing the sound of the door as it opened and shut softly. The rustling of a skirt and fall of feet upon the floor were not louder than the play of the dead leaves had been. She did start and spring to her feet as a hand was laid on her head, and found herself face to face with Miss Em'ly.
"Why, my dear little scholar!" cooed the visitor. "What is all this about? I can't believe you mean to be naughty."
She pulled Flea to a seat beside her and kept hold of her hand. She had never looked prettier than now. Her blue riding-habit and cap became her fair skin and bright curls; her cheeks were like roses, her eyes were kind. As she drew the girl to the bench she gave her a little squeeze that opened the sluiceway of the tears Flea had believed would never flow again.
"Tut! tut!" coaxed Miss Em'ly. "This will never do. Eliza and Robert and I came to get Mr. Tayloe to go riding with us. We've got his horse out yonder. He says he can't go because you must stay in until you say something he told you to say. Now, dearie, you won't spoil my ride—will you?"
Flea could not speak, but she shook her head vehemently.
"That's what I said! and I ran right off here to get you to say whatever it is to me—don't you see? Then, I'll make him let you off. What is it? Say it, quick!"
Flea's wet eyes looked straight into her friend's.
"He wants me to say 'A thorn scratched my face as I came through the woods.' It isn't true, Miss Em'ly."
"How did you get hurt then? Tell me that."
The child took a sudden resolution.