CHAPTER XXIV
AFTER they left Rose and were walking home under his faded umbrella with its streaks of green, Tommy left off his chattering and fell silent. He had felt Betty’s involuntary recoil from his falsehood and his heart was heavy. The boy hardly knew how he reckoned upon Betty’s good opinion.
“You’re awfully good, Tommy, to be so ready to help out,” she said gratefully. “I don’t know what I should ever do without you to turn to. I have told Rose I sha’n’t see her all day Saturday. In the morning I’ll help Aunt Sarah and study and practise, but I’m saving the whole afternoon for your magic. Have you got something nice?”
“Bully!” he cried, all cheerfulness again. “There’s a peach of a trick where you pour water out of a jug and have it turn out wine. Then pour it back and it’s water again. How’s that?”
“It sounds first-rate,” Betty declared warmly.
“It’s a beaut, I can tell you—that is, it ought to be. I haven’t tried it yet. It takes a lot of things and some time, so I’m leaving it for Saturday.”
“It sounds so attractive that I should think Mr. Meadowcroft might enjoy it. You might do it for him when he gets back,” Betty suggested, to Tommy’s unbounded delight. But before he could reply, she uttered a startled exclamation.
“What is it?” he asked anxiously. “Do you mean you saw a light?”
“Yes—I guess Aunt Sarah didn’t go to the sewing-circle. Like as not they didn’t have one,” she said in a scared voice. “I’m sure I don’t know what she’ll say.”
“Where’s the light now?” Tommy demanded. And truly, the house was dark.
“I saw that light, too, but it was a flash,” he said. “It was a lantern going by the further kitchen window and showing through in front. Someone’s going cross-lots over to Thorns’—old man Martin probably.”
Betty breathed a deep sigh of relief. “You are certainly a wizard, Tommy,” she declared.
Tommy’s usual boastfulness was not forthcoming. As he stood within the little porch made by the storm door while Betty took off her overshoes, he remarked casually that Mr. Appleton had looked pretty seedy that day.
“O, I didn’t notice!” cried Betty contritely. “I am so sorry! Do you mean his cold seems worse?”
“I don’t know as it’s so much worse, but the poor old duffer seemed so sort of played out and discouraged. Those hollow-chested beggars always seem—well, prone to melancholy, somehow. I wish Mr. Meadowcroft was here to cheer him up.”
“Dear me, so do I. And probably he would take some of his classes, too,” added Betty.
As she set about replenishing the fire and laying the table for supper, Betty’s heart ached dully. Somehow, there seemed so much ahead—so much to be faced. There were other stormy Wednesdays in all likelihood, and other enlistings of Tommy for disagreeable explanations.And there were any amount of unexpected things that might happen. And meanwhile she felt so sorry for Mr. Appleton. It made their stealing away from school seem different, too. It seemed mean to deceive him when he was so wretched. Of course it really didn’t hurt him any more now. And it didn’t hurt him ever,—not in the least. And when June came, and Rose was like other girls again, and they should tell him what they had done and why, Mr. Appleton would say they had done just right and that he wouldn’t for all the world have had them risk Rose’s losing the wonderful chance. Why, a much less kind-hearted man, a man that would hardly be called good at all, wouldn’t hinder a blind girl from getting back her sight; and Mr. Appleton was almost the kindest soul living. There was no man Betty so respected and looked up to except her father and Mr. Meadowcroft.
But as she thought of Mr. Meadowcroft, again, Betty’s heart sank. Immediately after she had echoed Tommy’s wish that he were here on Mr. Appleton’s account, the girl had realized that she really didn’t want him to come just yet. She dreaded his return. He was so keen that he would know almost at once that she had a secret from him—and suppose he didn’t understand? He wouldn’t have the slightest inkling as Tommy had, and suppose he should be hurt or vexed? It had weighed upon her for some days now that the secret might come between them unfortunately. The girl felt she couldn’t possibly endure it for six months to be without his favor. Rather than that, she would have chosen that he remain in Philadelphia.
That, however, was not to be. The following day,Mr. Appleton was yet more uncomfortable and on Friday he just managed to get through the day. Feeling that only change of air would affect the cold that had obtained such an hold upon him, he left town directly after school to spend the week-end in his home. On Saturday, the superintendent received word that he was seriously ill with pneumonia. The superintendent, who knew Meadowcroft, was more than grateful to remember the experience he had had, and drove over to South Paulding at once to consult him. Learning of his absence, he telegraphed to Philadelphia to ask if he would take charge of the school until Mr. Appleton returned or at least until another substitute could be found.
When the South Paulding children were old enough to go to the high school, they were allowed to attend the Sunday evening service at the church. And whereas many of the boys had to be dragged to morning service, they filled the vestry at night. On the Sunday evening following the receipt of the news of the illness of the principal of the high school, there was suppressed excitement among a certain group of the young people; and at the close word went round among all present, to be borne by them to the absentees, that Mr. Meadowcroft was to have charge of the school, beginning to-morrow morning and remaining until Mr. Appleton returned. Tommy Finnemore talked perhaps more than anyone else. He was quite jubilant and boasted, in his harmless, boyish fashion, of thecinchhe would have, being an intimate friend of the new teacher’s. Practically everyone concerned, after expressing proper regret for the master’s illness, was highly delighted with the prospectof having the charming and elegant Mr. Meadowcroft at the school for at least a fortnight. Only Betty Pogany was a silent dissenter. The girl lay awake far into the night in perplexity and dismay.
Her dismay was due, of course, to her secret. She had dreaded to have Mr. Meadowcroft even return to the village; and to think of him in Mr. Appleton’s place was almost more than she could endure. It wasn’t that she apprehended that it would be more difficult to get away for her Wednesday visits to Millville; quite likely it would be even simpler. It wasn’t that Betty wasn’t assured that Mr. Meadowcroft would be even more ready than Mr. Appleton to help Rose. He, too, would be yet more delighted in June. It was only that Mr. Meadowcroft was peculiarly her friend, and she would naturally have longed to do everything within her power to make things easy and pleasant for him. Even though he should never know it until June—and of course he must under no conditions be allowed to know it—though it first came to his ears by means of her glad confession after he had seen Rose as her real self and Rose had first seen him,—still, Betty must needs feel half-guilty all the while, she knew. And O, suppose some of the other high school children should notice her stealing away on one of the Wednesdays before Mr. Appleton returned, and should take it for granted she abused Mr. Meadowcroft’s friendship by imposing upon him!
It occurred to Betty that she might tell Mr. Meadowcroft that Mr. Appleton had excused her and Rose on Wednesdays at ten minutes before two. But though the statement would be true except for making the proper noun plural, it would after all amount to a lie, and Bettydidn’t feel as if she could possibly make it, though if it came to a question of that or of throwing over Rose’s chance, she would have to force herself to do so. Tommy would, no doubt, undertake it, and wouldn’t greatly mind, guessing probably the good end for which it was necessary. And yet, Tommy would feel it a very different matter with Mr. Meadowcroft. But anyhow, it was hardly a safe venture. When Mr. Appleton came back at the end of two weeks or so, Mr. Meadowcroft would be sure to mention the fact of their being excused—he was extremely punctilious. And that might be fatal to all Rose’s prospects. On the other hand, suppose Mr. Appleton shouldn’t—on a sudden, Betty felt herself a monster of wickedness as she caught herself wishing that having gone, Mr. Appleton wouldn’t return until June.
The realization was so terrible as to take her from her warm bed and cause her to walk the cold, almost icy floor in her bare feet without being conscious of discomfort. She hadn’t meant it, of course she hadn’t, at least not just the way it sounded, she said to herself in keen distress. Of course she wouldn’t for all the world have his illness last all that time! But a good long rest after a speedy recovery would do Mr. Appleton lots of good. And Mr. Meadowcroft just loved to teach and everybody was crazy to have him. And the best of it was, Mr. Appleton would be getting his salary just the same, because Mr. Meadowcroft was rich and didn’t need or want money. Always before, Mr. Appleton had had to pay his substitute. Now, he would even be saving more than he could if he were well, for, old as he was, he had a father and mother and could stay at home with them whenever he wished. And if he stayed until June—orreally next fall, he would save all the money he would pay for board and lodging in Paulding. Self-comforted, the girl crawled back into bed, putting the extra pillow over her cold feet for additional warmth. Her last waking thought was a beatific vision of Mr. Appleton returning in June for commencement, strong and well, clad in new clothes as nice as Mr. Meadowcroft’s (purchased out of the salary he had saved), with everybody glad to see him, and Rose Harrow running up to him eagerly and crying out: “O, Mr. Appleton, I can see! I can see you!”