in, who didn't.

That very day, proud, angry, and cut to the heart, Sandy packed his
household goods and left the place. There was much talk over the
affair and everyone expressed deep regret--even Jake Martin. But he
wisely refrained from saying much, for Tom Teeter excelled all his
former oratorical nights in his hot denunciation of such a heartless
crocodile, who could dance on his neighbor's grave and at the same time
weep like a whited sepulchre. Long after the countryside had given up
talking of poor Sandy's flitting, they discussed Tom's wonderful speech.

Elizabeth and Rosie had one letter from Eppie. They were living in
Cheemaun, she said, and grandaddy was working in a big garden nearby
and she was going to a great school where there were six teachers.
Elizabeth's sorrow changed to admiration and envy; and soon the
excitement of having a new teacher drove Eppie from her mind.

And still the winter slowly vanished and spring advanced, and still
Mrs. Jarvis did not come. Vigilance at The Dale was never relaxed
through the delay, however. Everything was kept in a state of
preparation, and Miss Gordon ordered her household as soldiers awaiting
an onset of the enemy. Sarah Emily had a clean apron every morning,
and the house was kept in speckless order from the stone step of the
front porch to the rain-barrel by the back door of the woodshed. Even
the barnyard was swept every morning before the younger Gordons left
for school, and every day their Sabbath clothes were laid out in
readiness to slip on at the sight of a carriage turning in off
Champlain's Road.

But the days passed and no carriage appeared, neither did a line come
from the expected lady explaining her tardiness. Hope deferred made
Miss Gordon's nerves unsteady and her heart hard towards the cause of
her daily disappointment. By some process of unreason which often
develops in the aggrieved feminine mind, she conceived of Elizabeth as
that cause, and the unfortunate child found herself, all
uncomprehending as usual, fallen from the heights of approbation to
which her progress at school had raised her, to the old sad level of
constant wrong-doing.

And so the days passed until once more May came down Arrow Hill with
her arms full of blossoms, and turned the valley into a garden.
Dandelions starred the green carpet by the roadside, violets and
marigolds draped the banks of the creek with a tapestry of purple and
gold. The wild cherry-tre