of him.  He was another one to bear it.  Now she understood his solitary life.  Now she knew why he shrank from anything like making himself known.  The depth of the meaning of some of his favorite sayings flashed over her.  She even remembered one of her own childish questions, and his brief, stern affirmative:  “Mr. Holmes, were you ever in a prison?” How much they had borne together, these two!  And now they had Prue to love and to live for.  She would never allow even a shadow of jealousy of poor little Prue again.  Poor little Prue, with such a heritage of shame.  How vehemently and innocently she had declared that she would not be called Jeroma.

The wind blew sharply against her; she stepped back and closed the door; she was shivering while her cheeks were blazing.  She would go home, she could not stay through the hour of the afternoon and be looked at and commented upon.  Was not Miss Prudence’s shame and sorrow her own?  As she was reaching for her cloak she remembered that she must ask to be excused, taking it down and throwing it over her arm she re-entered the schoolroom.

Master McCosh was writing at the table, a group of girls were clustered around one of the registers.

“It was mean!  It was real mean!” a voice was exclaiming.

“I don’t see how you could tell her, Clarissa Parks!  You know she adores Miss Pomeroy.”

“You all seemed to listen well enough,” retorted Miss Parks.

“We were spell-bound.  We couldn’t help it,” excused Emma Downs.

“I knew it before,” said Maria Denyse.

“I didn’t know Miss Pomeroy was the lady,” said Lizzie Harrowgate.  “She is mother’s best friend, so I suppose she wouldn’t tell me.  They both came here to school.”

Master McCosh raised his head.

“What new gossip now, girls?” he inquired sternly.

“Oh, nothing,” answered Miss Parks.

“You are making quite a hubbub about nothing.  The next time that subject is mentioned the young lady who does it takes her books and goes home.  Miss Holmes expects to come here among you, and the girl who does not treat her with consideration may better stay at home.  Jerome Holmes was the friend of my boyhood and manhood; he sinned and he suffered for it; his story does not belong to your generation.  It is not through any merit of yours that your fathers are honorable men.  It becomes us all to be humble?”

A hush fell upon the group.  Clarissa Parks colored with anger; why should she be rebuked, she was not a thief nor the daughter of a thief.

Marjorie went to the master and standing before him with her cheeks blazing and eyes downcast she asked: 

“May I go home?  I cannot recite this afternoon.”

“If you prefer, yes,” he replied in his usual tone; “but I hardly think you care to see Miss Pomeroy just now.”

“Oh, no, I didn’t think of that; I only thought of getting away from here.”