of the little community, and when
finally Emily said to me; "I guess you done about right shirking off
Beck, teacher. I guess she ain't no better than she ought to be:" in
spite of what I felt to be my own unblemished conscience in the matter
and the justice of the retribution which was overtaking Rebecca, I went
often to my little room and cried bitterly for her, as well as for
myself.

CHAPTER XV.

DAVID ROLLIN IN THE SCHOOL-ROOM.

Mrs. Philander Keeler grew kind. At first, especially while the fisherman
was in Wallencamp, her demeanor towards me had been marked by a decided
touch of coldness and mistrust. She suspected me, I thought, of trifling
with the Cradlebow; now, she invariably deferred to me as a person worthy
of all honor and consideration--of congratulation even, in an eminent
degree.

She assumed to be on the most frank and confiding terms with me. She
found a thousand little ways for promoting my physical comfort that had
never occurred to her before.

So I was the more surprised, when after school, one Friday afternoon, as
I was sitting in my room, this same Madeline suddenly appeared before me
with her eyes glittering, her lips compressed, and her complexion of that
positive green hue which it always wore when she was in a high passion.

"There's a gentleman down stairs, waiting to see you, teacher," she said,
with a peculiarly dark inflection on the word gentleman. "Oh, he's got on
an awful interesting look!" snapped out Madeline, with a spiteful little
laugh; "and a suit of light clothes, and a new spring overcoat, and he
looked at me as though I was a pane of window-glass, and he says,
'Oh--ah--yes--is Miss Hungerford in?' I wonder if he's come back to make
his farewell calls--" with another unpleasant laugh. "One thing I can
tell him, he'd better steer clear of George Olver!"

Was ever a zealous young devotee, I pondered, more perplexed!

"Come this way, please," I said, holding out my hand to Madeline; and
leaning back in my chair with unaffected weariness, at least. "Is Mr.
Rollin down stairs?"

"They call him that, I believe," said Madeline, sententiously; "things
don't always get their right names in this world."

"Well, you may tell him," I said; "that I can't see him."

Madeline's countenance changed wonderfully in an instant. She gave me a
bright look, and without waiting for another word, ran down the stairs.

When she came back her tongue ran on glibly:--

"I told h