the lost time; and just before the ten-o’clock bell she slipped out to mail a fat brown-stamped envelope. The night-watchman chuckled as he watched the head shrouded in the golf-cape hood bend a moment over the little white square.
“Maybe it’s one o’ the maids, maybe it’s one o’ the teachers, maybe it’s one o’ the girls,” he confided to his lantern; “they’re all alike, come to that! An’ a good thing, too!”
In the morning the German assistant dismissed her last class early and took train for Springfield. On the way to the station a deferential clerk from the bookshop waylaid her.
“One moment, please. Those books you spoke of. Mr. Hartwell’s library is up at auction and we’re sending a man to buy to-day. If you could get the whole set for twenty-five dollars—”
She smiled and shook her head. “I’ve changed my mind, thank you—I can’t afford it. Yes, I suppose it is a bargain,
