Part 99

Just about this time, Alexia Rhys was rushing to school. She was late, for everything had gone wrong that morning from the very beginning. And of course Polly Pepper had started for school, when Alexia called for her; and feeling as if nothing mattered now, the corner was reached despairingly, when she heard her name called.

It was an old lady who was a friend of her aunt's, and Alexia paused involuntarily, then ran across the street to see what was wanted.

"Oh, my dear, I suppose I ought not to stop you, for you are going to school."

"Oh, it doesn't matter," said Alexia indifferently; "I'm late anyway. What is it, Miss Seymour?"

"I want to congratulate you--I must congratulate you," exclaimed old Miss Seymour, with an excited little cackle. "I really must, Alexia."

Alexia ran over in her mind everything for which she could, by any possibility, be congratulated; and finding nothing, she said, "What for?" quite abruptly.

"Oh, my dear! Haven't you heard?" Old Miss Seymour put her jewelled fingers on the girl's shoulder. She had gathered up her dressy morning robe in her hand, and hastened down her front steps at the first glimpse of Alexia across the way.

Alexia knew of old the roundabout way pursued by her aunt's friend in her narrations. Besides, she cared very little anyway for this bit of old women's gossip. So she said carelessly, "No, I'm sure I haven't; and I don't believe it's much anyway, Miss Seymour."

"'Much anyway?' oh, my dear!" Old Miss Seymour held up both hands. "Well, what would you say if you should be told that your teacher was going to be married?"

Alexia staggered backward and put up both hands. "Oh, don't, Miss Seymour," she cried, the fears she had been lighting so many weeks now come true. Then she burst out passionately, "Oh, it isn't true--it can't be!"

"Well, but it is," cried Miss Seymour positively. "I had it not ten minutes since from a very intimate friend; and as you were the first Salisbury girl I saw, why, I wanted to congratulate you, of course, as soon as I could."

"Salisbury girl!" Alexia groaned as she thought how they should never have that title applied to them any more; for of course the beautiful school was doomed. "And where shall we all go?" she cried to herself in despair.

"Oh, how could she go and get engaged!" she exclaimed aloud.

"You haven't asked who the man is," said Miss Seymour in surprise.

"Oh, I know--I know," said Alexia miserably; "it's Mr. John Clemcy. Oh, if we hadn't had that old picnic!" she burst out.

"Eh--what?" exclaimed the little old lady quickly.

"Never mind. It doesn't signify who the man is. It doesn't signify about anything," said Alexia wildly, "as long as Miss Salisbury is going to get married and give up our school."

"Oh, I don't suppose the school will be given up," said Miss Seymour.

"What? Why, of course it will be. How can she keep it after she is married?" cried Alexia impatiently. She longed to say, "you goose you!"

"Why, I suppose the other one will keep it, of course; and it will go on just the same as it did before."

"Oh dear me! The idea of Miss Anstice keeping that school!" With all her misery, Alexia couldn't help bursting into a laugh.

"Miss Anstice?"

"Yes; if you knew her as we girls do, Miss Seymour, you never'd say she could run that school."

"I never said she could."

"Oh, yes, you did," Alexia was guilty of contradicting. "You said distinctly that when Miss Salisbury was married, you supposed Miss Anstice would keep it on just the same."

Little old Miss Seymour took three or four steps down the pavement, then turned and trotted back, the dressy morning robe still gathered in her hand.

"Who do you think is engaged to Mr. John Clemcy?" she asked, looking up at the tall girl.

"Why, our Miss Salisbury," answered Alexia, ready to cry, "I suppose. That's what you said."