AFTER they left Rose and were walking home under his faded umbrella
with its streaks of green, Tommy left off his chattering and fell
silent. He had felt Betty’s involuntary recoil from his falsehood and
his heart was heavy. The boy hardly knew how he reckoned upon Betty’s
good opinion.
“You’re awfully good, Tommy, to be so ready to help out,” she said
gratefully. “I don’t know what I should ever do without you to turn to.
I have told Rose I sha’n’t see her all day Saturday. In the morning
I’ll help Aunt Sarah and study and practise, but I’m saving the whole
afternoon for your magic. Have you got something nice?”
“Bully!” he cried, all cheerfulness again. “There’s a peach of a trick
where you pour water out of a jug and have it turn out wine. Then pour
it back and it’s water again. How’s that?”
“It sounds first-rate,” Betty declared warmly.
“It’s a beaut, I can tell you--that is, it ought to be. I haven’t tried
it yet. It takes a lot of things and some time, so I’m leaving it for
Saturday.”
“It sounds so attractive that I should think Mr. Meadowcroft might
enjoy it. You might do it for him when he gets back,” Betty suggested,
to Tommy’s unbounded delight. But before he could reply, she uttered a
startled exclamation.
“What is it?” he asked anxiously. “Do you mean you saw a light?”
“Yes--I guess Aunt Sarah didn’t go to the sewing-circle. Like as not
they didn’t have one,” she said in a scared voice. “I’m sure I don’t
know what she’ll say.”
“Where’s the light now?” Tommy demanded. And truly, the house was dark.
“I saw that light, too, but it was a flash,” he said. “It was a lantern
going by the further kitchen window and showing through in front.
Someone’s going cross-lots over to Thorns’--old man Martin probably.”
Betty breathed a deep sigh of relief. “You are certainly a wizard,
Tommy,” she declared.
Tommy’s usual boastfulness was not forthcoming. As he stood within the
little porch made by the storm door while Betty took off her overshoes,
he remarked casually that Mr. Appleton had looked pretty seedy that day.
“O, I didn’t notice!” cried Betty contritely. “I am so sorry! Do you
mean his cold seems worse?”
“I don’t know as it’s so much worse, but the poor old duffer seemed so
sort of played out and discouraged. Those hollow-chested beggars always
seem--well, prone to melancholy, somehow. I wish Mr. Meadowcroft was
here to cheer him up.”
“Dear me, so do I. And probably he would take some of his classes,
too,” added Betty.
As she set about replenishing the fire and laying the table for supper,
Betty’s heart ached dully. Somehow, there seemed so much ahead--so much
to be faced. There were other stormy Wednesdays in all likelihood, and
other enlistings of Tommy for disagreeable explanations. And there
were any amount of unexpected things that might happen. And meanwhile
she felt so sorry for Mr. Appleton. It made their stealing away from
school seem different, too. It seemed mean to deceive him when he was
so wretched. Of course it really didn’t hurt him any more now. And it
didn’t hurt him ever,--not in the least. And when June came, and Rose
was like other girls again, and they should tell him what they had
done and why, Mr. Appleton would say they had done just right and that
he wouldn’t for all the world have had them risk Rose’s losing the
wonderful chance. Why, a much less kind-hearted man, a man that would
hardly be called good at all, wouldn’t hinder a blind girl from getting
back her sight; and Mr. Appleton was almost the kindest soul living.
There was no man Betty so respected and looked up to except her father
and Mr. Meadowcroft.
But as she thought of Mr. Meadowcroft, again, Betty’s heart sank.
Immediately after she had echoed Tommy’s wish that he were here on
Mr. Appleton’s account, the girl had realized that she really didn’t
want him to come just yet. She dreaded his return. He was so keen
that he would know almost at once that she had a secret from him--and
suppose he didn’t understand? He wouldn’t have the slightest inkling
as Tommy had, and suppose he should be hurt or vexed? It had weighed
upon her for some days now that the secret might come between them
unfortunately. The girl felt she couldn’t possibly endure it for six
months to be without his favor. Rather than that, she would have chosen
that he remain in Philadelphia.
That, however, was not to be. The following day, Mr. Appleton
was yet more uncomfortable and on Friday he just managed to get
through the day. Feeling that only change of air would affect the
cold that had obtained such an hold upon him, he left town directly
after school to spend the week-end in his home. On Saturday, the
superintendent received word that he was seriously ill with pneumonia.
The superintendent, who knew Meadowcroft, was more than grateful to
remember the experience he had had, and drove over to South Paulding
at once to consult him. Learning of his absence, he telegraphed to
Philadelphia to ask if he would take charge of the school until Mr.
Appleton returned or at least until another substitute could be found.
When the South Paulding children were old enough to go to the high
school, they were allowed to attend the Sunday evening service at the
church. And whereas many of the boys had to be dragged to morning
service, they filled the vestry at night. On the Sunday evening
following the receipt of the news of the illness of the principal
of the high school, there was suppressed excitement among a certain
group of the young people; and at the close word went round among all
present, to be borne by them to the absentees, that Mr. Meadowcroft was
to have charge of the school, beginning to-morrow morning and remaining
until Mr. Appleton returned. Tommy Finnemore talked perhaps more than
anyone else. He was quite jubilant and boasted, in his harmless, boyish
fashion, of the _cinch_ he would have, being an intimate friend of
the new teacher’s. Practically everyone concerned, after expressing
proper regret for the master’s illness, was highly delighted with
the prospect of having the charming and elegant Mr. Meadowcroft at
the school for at least a fortnight. Only Betty Pogany was a silent
dissenter. The girl lay awake far into the night in perplexity and
dismay.
Her dismay was due, of course, to her secret. She had dreaded to have
Mr. Meadowcroft even return to the village; and to think of him in Mr.
Appleton’s place was almost more than she could endure. It wasn’t that
she apprehended that it would be more difficult to get away for her
Wednesday visits to Millville; quite likely it would be even simpler.
It wasn’t that Betty wasn’t assured that Mr. Meadowcroft would be even
more ready than Mr. Appleton to help Rose. He, too, would be yet more
delighted in June. It was only that Mr. Meadowcroft was peculiarly her
friend, and she would naturally have longed to do everything within her
power to make things easy and pleasant for him. Even though he should
never know it until June--and of course he must under no conditions
be allowed to know it--though it first came to his ears by means of
her glad confession after he had seen Rose as her real self and Rose
had first seen him,--still, Betty must needs feel half-guilty all the
while, she knew. And O, suppose some of the other high school children
should notice her stealing away on one of the Wednesdays before Mr.
Appleton returned, and should take it for granted she abused Mr.
Meadowcroft’s friendship by imposing upon him!
It occurred to Betty that she might tell Mr. Meadowcroft that Mr.
Appleton had excused her and Rose on Wednesdays at ten minutes before
two. But though the statement would be true except for making the
proper noun plural, it would after all amount to a lie, and Betty
didn’t feel as if she could possibly make it, though if it came to a
question of that or of throwing over Rose’s chance, she would have
to force herself to do so. Tommy would, no doubt, undertake it, and
wouldn’t greatly mind, guessing probably the good end for which it was
necessary. And yet, Tommy would feel it a very different matter with
Mr. Meadowcroft. But anyhow, it was hardly a safe venture. When Mr.
Appleton came back at the end of two weeks or so, Mr. Meadowcroft would
be sure to mention the fact of their being excused--he was extremely
punctilious. And that might be fatal to all Rose’s prospects. On the
other hand, suppose Mr. Appleton shouldn’t--on a sudden, Betty felt
herself a monster of wickedness as she caught herself wishing that
having gone, Mr. Appleton wouldn’t return until June.
The realization was so terrible as to take her from her warm bed and
cause her to walk the cold, almost icy floor in her bare feet without
being conscious of discomfort. She hadn’t meant it, of course she
hadn’t, at least not just the way it sounded, she said to herself
in keen distress. Of course she wouldn’t for all the world have his
illness last all that time! But a good long rest after a speedy
recovery would do Mr. Appleton lots of good. And Mr. Meadowcroft
just loved to teach and everybody was crazy to have him. And the
best of it was, Mr. Appleton would be getting his salary just the
same, because Mr. Meadowcroft was rich and didn’t need or want money.
Always before, Mr. Appleton had had to pay his substitute. Now, he
would even be saving more than he could if he were well, for, old as
he was, he had a father and mother and could stay at home with them
whenever he wished. And if he stayed until June--or really next
fall, he would save all the money he would pay for board and lodging
in Paulding. Self-comforted, the girl crawled back into bed, putting
the extra pillow over her cold feet for additional warmth. Her last
waking thought was a beatific vision of Mr. Appleton returning in
June for commencement, strong and well, clad in new clothes as nice
as Mr. Meadowcroft’s (purchased out of the salary he had saved), with
everybody glad to see him, and Rose Harrow running up to him eagerly
and crying out: “O, Mr. Appleton, I can see! I can see you!”