“Charles!” Aunt Jane raised her voice and spoke again.  “I said if Mary is going to school at all to-day it is high time she was starting.”

“Eh?  What?” If you’ll believe it, that man looked as dazed as if he’d never even heard of my going to school.  Then suddenly his face changed.  “Oh, yes, to be sure.  Well, er—­Mary is not going to school to-day,” he said.  Then he looked at his watch, and without another word strode into the hall, got his hat, and left the house, leaving Aunt Jane and me staring into each other’s faces.

But I didn’t stay much longer than Father did.  I strode into the hall, too, by Aunt Jane.  But I didn’t leave the house.  I came up here to my own room; and ever since I’ve been writing it all down in my book.

Of course, I don’t know now what’s going to happen next.  But I wish you could have seen Aunt Jane’s face when Father said I wasn’t going to school to-day!  I don’t believe she’s sure yet that she heard aright—­though she didn’t try to stop me, or even speak when I left and came upstairs.  But I just know she’s keeping up a powerful thinking.

For that matter, so am I. What is going to happen next?  Have I got to go to school to-morrow?  But then, of course, I shan’t do that.  Besides, I don’t believe Father’ll ask me to, after what I said about Mother. He didn’t like that—­what those girls said—­any better than I did.  I’m sure of that.  Why, he looked simply furious.  But there isn’t any other school here that I can be sent to, and—­

But what’s the use?  I might surmise and speculate all day and not come anywhere near the truth.  I must await—­what the night will bring forth, as they say in really truly novels.

* * * * *

Four days later.

And what did the night bring forth?  Yes, what did it bring!  Verily it brought forth one thing I thought nothing ever could have brought forth.

It was like this.

That night at the supper-table Aunt Jane cleared her throat in the I-am-determined-I-will-speak kind of a way that she always uses when she speaks to Father. (Aunt.  Jane doesn’t talk to Father much more than Mother used to.)

“Charles,” she began.

Father had an astronomy paper beside his plate, and he was so busy reading he didn’t hear, so Aunt Jane had to speak again—­a little louder this time.

“Charles, I have something to say to you.”

“Eh?  What?  Oh—­er—­yes.  Well, Jane, what is it?” Father was looking up with his I’ll-be-patient-if-it-kills-me air, and with his forefinger down on his paper to keep his place.

As if anybody could talk to a person who’s simply tolerating you for a minute like that, with his forefinger holding on to what he wants to tend to!  Why, I actually found myself being sorry for Aunt Jane.

She cleared her throat again.

“It is understood, of course, that Mary is to go to school to-morrow morning, I suppose,” she said.