“I lost my school,” she went on, still keeping her face turned toward the meadow and speaking fast.  “Ida Starr got it away from me.  Her father is school-committee-man, and he said he didn’t think I was able to teach, just because he brought me home in his buggy one day when I was a little faint.  I had a note from him that morning mother—­that morning she came down here.  I was just going to school, and I was a good deal better, when Mr. Starr’s boy brought it.  He said he thought it was better for me to take a little vacation.  I knew what that meant.  I knew Ida had wanted the school right along.  I told Amanda I was coming down here.  She tried to stop me, but I had money enough.  Mr. Starr sent me what was owing to me, and I came.  I thought I might just as well.  I thought mother—­Amanda was dreadfully scared, but I told her I was going to come.  I can’t go back to Green River; I haven’t got money enough.”  Lois’s voice broke; she hid her face again.

“Oh, don’t feel so,” cried Francis.  “You don’t want to go back to Green River.”

“Yes, I do.  I want to get back.  It’s awful here, awful.  I never knew anything so awful.”

Francis stared at her pityingly.  “Why, you poor little girl, are you as homesick as that?” he said.

Lois only sobbed in answer.

“Look here!” said Francis—­he leaned over her, and his voice sank to a whisper—­“it’s none of my business, but I think you’d better tell me; it won’t go any further—­isn’t your aunt good to you?  Doesn’t she treat you well?”

Lois shook her head vaguely.  “I can’t go back anyway,” she moaned.  “Ida’s got my school.  I haven’t got anything to do there.  Don’t you think I can get a school here?”

“I am afraid you can’t,” said Francis.  “You see, the schools have all begun now.  But you mustn’t feel so bad.  Don’t.”  He touched her shoulder gently.  “Poor little girl!” said he.  “Perhaps I ought not to speak so to you, but you make me so sorry for you I can’t help it.  Now you must cheer up; you’ll get along all right.  You won’t be homesick a bit after a little while; you’ll like it here.  There are some nice girls about your age.  My cousin Flora will come and see you.  She’s older than you, but she’s a real nice girl.  She’s feeling rather upset over something now, too.  Now come, let’s get up and go and see some more of the monuments.  You don’t want a school.  Your aunt can lookout for you.  I should laugh if she couldn’t.  She’s a rich woman, and you’re all she’s got in the world.  Now come, let’s cheer up, and go look at some more gravestones.”

“I guess I’d rather go home,” said Lois, faintly.

“Too tired?  Well, let’s sit here a little while longer, then.  You mustn’t go home with your eyes red, your aunt will think I’ve been scolding you.”

Francis looked down at her with smiling gentleness.  He was a handsome young man with a pale straight profile, his face was very steady and grave when he was not animated, and his smile occasioned a certain pleasant surprise.  He was tall, and there was a boyish clumsiness about his shoulders in his gray coat.  He reached out with a sudden impulse, and took Lois’ little thin hand in his own with a warm clasp.