Rose's bonnet, and whispered, "Mary Howard!"

"Kissed her, upon my word!" said Aunt Martha with a groan, which was
rendered inaudible to Ida by the louder noise of the engine.

CHAPTER XXI.

VACATION.

In Mrs. Mason's pleasant little dining parlor, the tea-table was
neatly spread for two, while old Judith, in starched gingham dress,
white muslin apron, bustled in and out, occasionally changing the
position of a curtain or chair, and then stepping backward to witness
the effect. The stuffed rocking chair, with two extra cushions, and a
pillow, was drawn up to the table, indicating that an invalid was
expected to occupy that seat, while near one of the plates was a
handsome bouquet, which Lydia Knight had carefully arranged, and
brought over as a present for her young teacher. A dozen times had
Lydia been told to "clip down to the gate and see if they were
comin';" and at last, seating herself resignedly upon the hall stairs,
Judith began to wonder "what under the sun and moon had happened."

She had not sat there long, ere the sound of wheels again drew her to
the door, and in a moment old Charlotte and the yellow wagon entered
the yard. Mary, who was now nearly well, sprang out, and bounding up
the steps, seized Judith's hand with a grasp which told how glad she
was to see her.

"Why, you ain't dreadful sick, is you?" said Judith peering under her
bonnet.

"Oh, no, not sick at all," returned Mary; and then, as she saw the
chair, with its cushions and pillows, she burst into a loud laugh,
which finally ended in a hearty cry, when she thought how kind was
every one to her.

She had been at home but a few days when she was solicited to take
charge of a small select school. But Mrs Mason thought it best for her
to return to Mount Holyoke, and accordingly she declined Mr. Knight's
offer, greatly to his disappointment, and that of many others. Mrs.
Bradley, who never on any occasion paid her school bill, was the
loudest in her complaints, saying that, "for all Tim never larnt a
speck, and stood at the foot all summer long when Mary kept before,
he'd got so sassy there was no living with him, and she wanted him out
of the way."

Widow Perkins, instead of being sorry was glad, for if Mary didn't
teach, there was no reason why Sally Ann shouldn't. "You'll never have
a better chance," said she to her daughter, "there's no stifficut
needed for a private school, and I'll clap on my things and run over
to Mr Kn