fright.

“N-never mind! Thanks!” she blurted out, and turning sharply, dashed into the cover of the thicket and was almost instantly out of sight—out of sound, as well.

But she was so excited that she did not think again how she looked until she appeared before Miss Trigg.

The short-sighted teacher looked up at her—stared, evidently without identifying her charge for the moment—and then gave voice.

“Nancy! Nancy Nelson! Whatever have you been doing to yourself?”

“I—I——”

Nancy had already heard the motor get under way. She knew that the boy and his friends were now out of hearing, or reach.

“Aren’t these lilies pretty?” she asked, holding out the flowers as a peace-offering to Miss Trigg.

“What?” screamed the teacher, getting up nimbly, and backing away from the mud-bedaubed figure of the girl. “Your feet are wet! Did—did you dare get into such a mess, just to get those—those weeds?”

Nancy nodded. It was true. Her bedrabblement had been the forerunner of the gift of flowers from the boy.

“Well! of all things!” gasped Miss Trigg.

“I—I believe you’ve taken leave of your senses. Why—why, whatever will people think of you, going home? We—we can’t ride in the car. They wouldn’t let you get on. And I’d be ashamed to be seen with you.”

“Oh! I’m sorry, Miss Trigg,” murmured Nancy.

“Being sorry won’t take the mud off that dress—or bring a new pair of stockings—or clean those boots. We’ve got to have a cab—a closed cab. I wouldn’t go home with you in anything else.”

“I—I’ll go home alone, Miss Trigg,” said the contrite girl.

“No! While Miss Prentice is away you shall never again be out of my sight in waking hours—no, Miss! And for a bunch of weeds!”

“Oh Miss Trigg! they are so-o pretty——”

“Don’t you say another word!” commanded the teacher. “And you stand right here until I can signal a cab on the drive below. There, there’s one now!”

The teacher burst through the bushes and waved madly to a taxi rolling slowly along the macadam below the hill. The driver saw her and stopped.

“Come!” spoke Miss Trigg. “Here! give me those—those things.”

She snatched the lilies from Nancy’s hand and flung them in the path. The girl looked back at them longingly; but she thought it best to trifle with the teacher no further.

So she followed slowly the gaunt, angry woman down the steep path, and only the memory of the boy’s gift remained with her through the rest of the days of that last vacation at Higbee School.

Nancy was in disgrace with Miss Trigg, and was very lonely. She wondered who the boy was—and where he lived—and who the girls were with him—and if he had suffered any bad result from his adventure.

Above all, she wondered if she should ever see him again.

But that was not likely. Miss Prentice came home in a week, and in another week the school would open.

Mr. Gordon had sent the ticket for Nancy’s fare to Clintondale. Her modest trunk was packed. Miss Prentice bade her a perfunctory good-bye. It was a cold farewell, indeed, to the only home the girl could remember and in which she had lived for at least three-quarters of her life.

But as the cab which was to take her to the railway station was about to start, Miss Trigg hurried out. She had scarcely recovered from the shock of Nancy’s adventure at the millpond; but after all there was a spark of human feeling deep down in the teacher’s heart.

“I—I hope you’ll do well, Nancy,” she stammered. “Do—do keep up well in your studies and be a credit to us. And for mercy’s sake don’t venture into a pond again after nasty weeds. It’s not—not ladylike.”

Nancy thought she was going to kiss her. But it had been a long time since Miss Trigg had kissed anybody, and it is doubtful if she really knew how. So she thought better of it, shook hands with Nancy in a mannish way, turned abruptly, and stalked back into the house.

The taxi rolled away, and Nancy winked back the tears. It was not hard. After all, the orphan girl was leaving nothing behind that she really loved.