“I was a little ashamed to be spatting away alone, but it pleased the fat woman, who proved to be Mrs. Brown, the keeper of the basket-boarders.

“’That’s Miss Smith.  She done nice, didn’t she, and she or’to of had some flowers,’ she said to me; and then I remembered with a pang that not a flower had been sent up to her—­the flower of them all—­and wished I had a whole green-house to give her.

“Did she think of it?  I wondered, as I watched her after she sat down.  The big hat had moved a little, and I could see the top of Eloise’s head, with its crown of reddish-brown hair, on which a gleam of sunshine from a window fell, bringing out tints of gold, as well as red.  That sounds rather poetical, don’t it? for a prosy chap who professes never to have been moved by any piece of femininity, however dainty.  I’ll confess I was moved by this little girl.  She is very slight and very young, I judge.  I like Mrs. Brown, and do not think her perfumery bad, or herself very fat, and am glad they had the window shut for her.  I wouldn’t have her in a draught for anything, because she told me Eloise was the nicest girl she ever had in her house, and the best scholar in her class.  Of course she is; I’d swear to that.  She may not be rooted and grounded in the fundamentals your queer old uncle thinks necessary, and I doubt if she knows about the grindstone, and the rest of it.  I’d laugh to see a great hulking fellow like you questioning her on such subjects.  I’ve a great mind to write out the lingo, and send it to her anonymously, so she will be prepared to satisfy your uncle, who, I fancy, is the Great Mogul of Crompton.

“I got quite chummy with Mrs. Brown before the exercises were over, and she told me Eloise lived in North Mayville with her grandmother, and that she was real glad she had a place to teach in Crompton, for she needed it.

“‘Poor?’ I asked, feeling ashamed of myself for the question.

“But Mrs. Brown saw nothing wrong in it, and answered, ‘Very.’

“Just then Bell nudged me again, and said, ’Let’s go.  We can get out now.  You don’t care to see them receive their diplomas?’

“But I did, and sat it out till Eloise had hers, and I saw her face again, and saw, too, what I had not noticed before, that her dress looked poor and plain beside the others.  Of course she’s poor; but what do I care for that?  I am a good deal struck, you see, and if there were nothing else to bring me to Crompton, Eloise would do it.  So expect me in September about the time her school commences.  When will that be?

“Very truly,

“JACK HARCOURT.”

CHAPTER III

ELOISE