It was with evident reluctance she accompanied Miss Herbert to the carriage.  Before she left she took the tablet and wrote, “I am going to learn to talk on my fingers.”

“Good,” the cabinet-maker answered, and he followed them to the street, smiling and nodding.  “Come again,” he called as they drove away.

When he returned to the shop, the world seemed brighter, the mist of doubt had lifted.

“The rough places can’t last always,” he told himself as he sandpapered the claw toes of the sofa.  “We are certain to come to a turn in the lane after a while.  There’s good in everything, somewhere.”

Perhaps the coming of Mr. Pat’s little girl was a good omen.  To him at least it was a most interesting event, nor was he the only person in Friendship who found it so.

CHAPTER FOURTH.

An unquiet morning.

“You amaze me, ladies.”

Farther up the street on the other side, but within sight of the
Whittredges’, was Mrs. Graham’s Boarding and Day School for Young Ladies.

The broad, one story and a half mansion, with rooms enough for a small hotel, was still known as the Bishop place, although nearly twenty years had passed since the little brown and white house on Church Street had opened its doors to Miss Betty and her invalid father, and to such of the massive furniture as could be accommodated within its walls.  In her circular Mrs. Graham was careful to state that her school was commodiously housed in the mansion of the late distinguished Senator Charlton H. Bishop, and many a daughter groaned over her algebra or French verbs in the very room where her mother or grandmother before her had fleeted the time carelessly in evenings long past, for brilliant was the tradition of the Bishop hospitality.

Celia Fair, who taught drawing in the school, and on occasion kept study hour in what had once been the long drawing-room, had a fancy that the spirit of those days was responsible for many an outburst of mischief.  At present Mrs. Graham’s pupils were in a fever of curiosity over the new arrival at the Whittredges’.

The Whittredge place had been invested by them with something of a halo of romance, founded chiefly on the seclusion In which it pleased Mrs. Whittredge to live.  Bits of gossip let fall by their elders were eagerly treasured; it became the fashion, to rave over the beauty of the haughty Miss Genevieve, and even her brother who was not haughty, but quite like other people, was allowed a share of the halo on account of his connection with the lost ring, made famous by the contested will.

Katherine Roberts, returning to school after several days’ absence, found herself unusually popular.  Katherine lived next door to the unknown; she had seen her; it was even said she had heard her speak.  Excitement grew as the news spread.

The girls were standing in groups on the porch and steps, laughing and talking together, and at sight of Katherine gave her an uproarious greeting.