“Who’s Miss Dimchurch?” inquired Henry with pardonable curiosity.
“Schoolmistress,” said the small girl.
“Is this a school?” said Henry.
The small girl, her mouth full of apple, nodded.
“Any men here?” inquired Henry with an assumed carelessness.
The small girl shook her head.
“You’re the only boy I’ve ever seen here,” she said gleefully. “You’ll get it when Miss Dimchurch comes!”
His mind relieved of a great fear, Henry leaned back and smiled confidently.
“I’m not afraid of the old girl,” he said quietly, as he pulled out his pipe and filled it.
The small girl’s eyes glistened with admiration.