“I’ve got them fixed all right!  Just you wait, Tillie!” he said mysteriously.  “Mebbe us we ain’t goin’ to have the laugh on your pop and old Nathaniel Puntz!  You’ll see!  Wait till your pop comes home and says what’s happened at Board meetin’ to-night!  Golly!  “Won’t he be hoppin’ mad!”

“What is going to happen, Doc?”

“You wait and see!  I ain’t tellin’ even you, Tillie.  I’m savin’ it fur a surprise party fur all of yous!”

“Father won’t speak to me about it, you know.  He won’t mention Teacher’s name to me.”

“Then won’t you find out off of him about the Board meetin’?” the doctor asked in disappointment.  “Must you wait till you see me again oncet?”

“He will tell mother.  I can get her to tell me,” Tillie said.

“All right.  Somepin’s going to happen too good to wait!  Now look-ahere, Tillie, is your pop to be tole about your certificate?”

“I won’t tell him until I must.  I don’t know how he’d take it.  He might not let me get a school to teach.  Of course, when once I’ve got a school, he will have to be told.  And then,” she quietly added, “I shall teach, whether he forbids it or not.”

“To be sure!” heartily assented the doctor.  “And leave him go roll hisself, ain’t!  I’ll keep a lookout fur you and tell you the first wacancy I hear of.”

“What would I do—­what should I have done in all these years, Doc —­if it hadn’t been for you!” smiled Tillie, with an affectionate pressure of his rough hand; and the doctor’s face shone with pleasure to hear her.

“You have been a good friend to me, Doc.”

“Och, that’s all right, Tillie.  As I sayed, wirtue has its reward even in this here life.  My wirtuous acts in standin’ by you has gave me as much satisfaction as I’ve ever had out of anything!  But now, Tillie, about tellin’ your pop.  I don’t suspicion he’d take it anyways ugly.  A body’d think he’d be proud!  And he hadn’t none of the expense of givin’ you your nice education!”

“I can’t be sure how he would take it, Doc, so I would rather not tell him until I must.”

“All right.  Just what you say.  But I dare tell missus, ain’t?”

“If she won’t tell the girls, Doc.  It would get back to father, I’m afraid, if so many knew it.”

“I ’ll tell her not to tell.  She ’ll be as pleased and proud as if it was Manda or Rebecca!”

“Poor Aunty Em!  She is so good to me, and I’m afraid I’ve disappointed her!” Tillie humbly said; but somehow the sadness that should have expressed itself in the voice of one under suspension from meeting, when speaking of her sin, was quite lacking.

When, at length, they reached the Getz farm, Mr. Getz met them at the gate, his face harsh with displeasure at Tillie’s long and unpermitted absence from home.

“Hello, Jake!” said the doctor, pleasantly, as her father lifted her down from the high buggy.  “I guess missus tole you how I heard Tillie fainted away in a swoond day before yesterday, so this morning I come over to see her oncet—­Aunty Em she was some oneasy.  And I seen she would mebbe have another such a swoond if she didn’t get a long day out in the air.  It’s done her wonderful much good—­wonderful!”