nervous state.

"Why didn't you tell me 'twas Debby Beasley you was comin' to see?" he
demanded. "If you'd mentioned that deef image's name you'd never got ME
to drive you, I tell you that!"

"Yes," answered the teacher sweetly. "I imagined that. That's why I
didn't tell you, Mr. Bangs. Now I want you to do me a favor. Will you
drive over to Trumet Center, and deliver a note and get a package for
me? Then you can come back here, and I shall be ready to start for
home."

"Drive! Drive nothin'! The blacksmith's out, and won't be back for
another hour. His boy's there, but he's a big enough lunkhead to try
bailin' out a dory with a fork, and that buggy axle is bent so it's
simply got to be fixed. I'd no more go home to Ketury with that buggy as
'tis than I'd--Oh! my land of love!"

The ejaculation was almost a groan. There at the corner, ear trumpet
adjusted, and spectacles glistening, stood Debby Beasley. Bailey
appeared to wilt under her gaze as if the spectacles were twin suns.
Miss Dawes looked as if she very much wanted to laugh. The widow stared
in silence.

"How--how d'ye do, Mrs. Beasley?" faltered Mr. Bangs, not forgetting to
raise his voice. "I hope you're lookin' as well as you feel. I mean, I
hope you're smart."

Mrs. Beasley nodded decisively.

"Yes," she answered. "I'm pretty toler'ble, thank you. What was the
matter, Mr. Bangs? Why didn't you come in? Do you usually make your
calls round the corner?"

The gentleman addressed seemed unable to reply. The schoolmistress came
to the rescue.

"You mustn't blame Mr. Bangs, Mrs. Beasley," she explained. "He
wasn't responsible for what happened at Captain Whittaker's. He is
the gentleman who drove me over here. I was going to send him to Mrs.
Atwood's for the diary."

"Who said I was blamin' him?" queried the widow. "If 'twas that little
Tidditt thing I might feel different. But, considerin' that I got this
horn from Mr. Bangs, I'm willin' to let bygones be past. It helps my
hearin' a lot. Them ear-fixin's was good while they lasted, but they got
out of kilter quick. _I_ shan't bother Mr. Bangs. If he can square his
own conscience, I'm satisfied."

Bailey's conscience was not troubling him greatly, and he seemed
relieved. Phoebe told of the damaged buggy.

"Humph!" grunted the widow. "The horse didn't get bent, too, did he?"

Mr. Bangs indignantly declared that the horse was all right.

"Um--hum. Well, then, I guess I can supply a carriage. My fus