than that stiff, straight-backed, hair-cloth rocker in which she had to sit so upright.  He would send it to her with Amy’s compliments, if he could manage it without the knowledge of Jack, who he would rather should not know how much he was really interested in Eloise.  Jack was also planning what he could do, and thought of a wheel chair, in which she could be taken to and from school.  He might possibly find one in the village by the shore.  He would inquire without consulting Howard, whose joking grated a little, as it presupposed the impossibility of his really caring for one so far removed from his station in life as Eloise seemed to be.

Could she have known how much she was in the minds of the young men at Crompton Place, she would not have felt quite as forlorn and disconsolate as she did during the long hours of the day, when she sat helpless and alone, except as Mrs. Biggs tried to entertain her with a flow of talk and gossip which did not interest her.  A few of the neighbors called in the evening, and it seemed to Eloise that every one had had a sprained ankle or two, of which they talked continually, dwelling mostly upon the length of time it took before they were able to walk across the floor, to say nothing of the distance from Mrs. Biggs’s to the school-house.  That would be impossible for two or three weeks at least, and even then Miss Smith would have to go on crutches most likely, was their comforting assurance.

“I’ve got some up garret that I used twenty years ago.  Too long for her, but Tim can cut them off.  They are just the thing.  Lucky I kept them,” Mrs. Biggs said, while Eloise listened with a feeling like death in her heart, and dreamed that night of hobbling to school on Mrs. Biggs’s crutches, while Jack Harcourt helped and encouraged her, and Howard Crompton stood at a distance laughing at her.

CHAPTER VII

RUBY ANN PATRICK

She had taught the school in District No. 5 summer and winter for five years.  She had been a teacher for fifteen years, her first experience dating back to the days when the Colonel was school inspector, and his formula in full swing.  She had met all his requirements promptly, knew all about the geese and the grindstone, and the wind, and Mr. Wright, and had a certificate in the Colonel’s handwriting, declaring her to be rooted and grounded in the fundamentals, and qualified to teach a district school anywhere.  As Mr. Bills had said to Eloise, she was five feet nine inches high and large in proportion, with so much strength and vital force and determination, that the most unruly boy in District No. 5 would hesitate before openly defying her authority.  She had conquered Tom Walker, the bully of the school, and after the day when he was made to feel the force there was in her large hand, he had done nothing worse than make faces behind her back and draw caricatures of her on his slate.