"I see. I am Mrs. Jamieson; at the Glenville House."
She turned from him with the last word, and walked swiftly back toward the school-house.
Hilda Grant was still at the window. She had made no attempt to listen to recitations, or even to call the roll; and she hastened out, at sight of the slight black robed figure entering the school yard, her big grey eyes full of the question her lips refused to frame. They met at the foot of the steps, and Mrs. Jamieson spoke at once, as if in reply to the wordless inquiry in the other's face.
"I am Mrs. Jamieson," she said, speaking low, mindful of the curious faces peering out from two windows, on either side of the open door. "I was stopped by Mr.—"
"Mr. Doran?"
"Yes. He wished me to tell you that the teacher, Mr."
"Brierly?"
"Yes; that he has met with an accident; and that you had better close the school, and send the children home quietly, and at once."
"Oh!" Suddenly the woman's small figure swayed; she threw out a hand as if for support and, before the half-dazed girl before her could reach her, she sank weakly upon the lowest step. "Oh!" she sighed again.
