"Oh, I don't know." Mary resented anyone else who criticized her village. "Why, there's the schoolmaster."
"Is he one of your adorers?" Ursula asked, looking with amusement at the lean, black coated figure carrying a pile of books from one building to another.
Mary flushed.
"Not exactly," she said, but as Mr. Coast approached she smiled at him graciously. "Good morning," she called. "A blustery morning, isn't it? How's Mrs. Coast?"
She was not going to let Ursula see that there was any fly in her ointment of patronage.
But Coast regarded her coldly without a sign of recognition. From her he turned to Ursula, in her fur coat and rakish hat. His scornful eyes swept across them and he turned away.
Ursula suppressed a giggle of triumph. This was the worship offered by Mary's beloved villagers. The family should hear of this. "What a rude man!" she remarked airily.
"I expect the sun was in his eyes," said Mary.
Ursula decided it would be tactful to change the conversation. Poor Mary! She looked like a lion tamer when Leo won't sit up and do his tricks!
"You know, Mary," she began with pretty diffidence, running her walking-stick along the path, "you're such a dear. I'd hate to see you spoiled, and living this sort of life must be rather dangerous—likely to get you into a groove."