“Well, I am just the right person to come to, Miss Janet, for the people have put me on the School Board, and—­yes, we shall want some teachers next month in two of the primary departments.  Could you wait a month?  You might be studying up for your examination; it’s not much, but it’ll not hurt you to go over their arithmetics and grammars.  And I must write to Hammond to-day about some business of the Company.  I’ll ask him about your qualifications, and what he thinks of it, and we’ll see what can be done.  I should not wonder if I could get you a place.”

Mr. Kendall shook hands with us both; and, bidding him good-morning, with many thanks for his kindness, we went out.  We walked a square silently.  Suddenly Tom turned to me:—­

“You did not tell me, Janet, of this young lady.”

“No.”

“And is Mr. Hammond going to marry her?”

The blood rushed to my face, till it was crimson to the very hair, while I stammered,—­

“I do not know,—­you heard Mr. Kendall.”

Tom’s voice was as gentle as a mother’s in answer, but his words had little to do with the subject, they were almost as incoherent as mine,—­something about his hoping I would like living in Cincinnati, that teaching would not be too tiresome for me.  But from that moment George Hammond’s name was never mentioned between us.

I wrote that day to my step-mother, telling her of my plans and prospects, and that evening Tom brought me the needed school-books.  He had found them by asking some of the men at the yard whose children went to the public schools, and to the study of them I sat down with a determination that no slight difficulty could subdue.  The next week brought a long, kind letter from Mr. Hammond, scolding me for going as I did, and declaring that he missed me every day.

“But more than all shall I miss you, Janet, when I bring Miss Worthington back as my wife; I had depended so upon you as a companion for her.  But still it is a good thing for you to see something of the world, and you are bright enough to do anything you set out to do.  I have written to Mr. Kendall to do all he can for you, and with Tom to take care of you I am sure you will get along.  I begin to suspect that your going away was a thing contrived between Tom and yourself.  Who knows how soon he may bring you back among us to show the Sandy farmers’ wives how to live more comfortably than some of them do?  Tom has a very pretty place below the mouth of Blackberry, if you would only show him how to take care of it.”

There was comfort in this letter, in spite of the tears it caused me.  My secret was safe.  Miss Hammond had not been so cruel, so traitorous to her sex, as to betray it.  If she had not told it now, she never would tell it, and Tom, if he suspected it, was too good, too noble, to whisper it even to himself.  So I laid away my letter, and with a lighter heart turned again to my tasks.