A narrow velvet ribbon confined by a small brooch, and a black silk apron, completed her toilet, with the exception of a tiny locket, which was suspended from her neck by a slender gold chain.  This last ornament, immediately riveted Mr. Stuart’s attention, and from some strange cause sent the color quickly to his face.  After a time, as if to ascertain whether it were really a locket, or a watch, he asked “if Miss Howard could tell him the hour.”

“Certainly sir,” said she, and stepping to the desk and consulting a silver time-piece about the size of a dining plate, she told him that it was half-past three.

He nodded, and seemed very much interested in two little boys who sat near him, engaged in the laudable employment of seeing which could snap spittle the farthest and the best.

Just then there was a movement at the door, and a new visitor appeared in the person of Mrs. Perkins, who, with her large feather fan and flounced gingham dress, entered smiling and bowing, and saying “she had been trying all summer to visit the school.”

Mr. Stuart immediately arose and offered his chair, but there was something in his manner which led Mary to suppose that an introduction was not at all desired, so she omitted it, greatly to the chagrin of the widow, who, declining the proffered seat, squeezed herself between Lydia Knight and another girl, upsetting the inkstand of the one, and causing the other to make a curious character out of the letter “X” she chanced to be writing.

“Liddy, Liddy,” she whispered, “who is that man?”

But Lydia was too much engrossed with her spoiled apron to answer this question, and she replied with, “Marm may I g’wout; I’ve spilt the ink all over my apron.”

Permission, of course, was granted, and as the girl who sat next knew nothing of the stranger, Mrs. Perkins began to think she might just as well have staid at home and finished her shoes.  “But,” thought she, “may-be I shall find out after school.”

Fortune, however, was against the widow, for scarcely was her feather fan in full play, when Sally Ann came under the window, and punching her back with a long stick, told her in a loud whisper, that “she must come right home, for Uncle Jim and Aunt Dolly had just come from the cars.”

Accordingly, Mrs. Perkins, smoothing down her gingham flounces, and drawing on her cotton gloves, arose to go, asking Mary as she passed, “if that was an acquaintance of hers.”

Mary shook her head, and the widow, more puzzled than ever, took her leave.

When school was out, Mr. Stuart, who seemed in no haste whatever, entered into a lively discussion with Mary concerning schools and books, adroitly managing to draw her out upon all the leading topics of the day.  At last the conversation turned upon flowers; and when Mary chanced to mention Mrs. Mason’s beautiful garden, he instantly expressed a great desire to see it, and finally offered to accompany Mary home,