r
carriage. I am sure I do not understand your meaning, Mrs. Pritchett."

"Oh, I don't mean anything!" exclaimed the lady, but very red in the face
now, and her bonnet shaking. "Come, gals! we must be going."

Both Lyddy and 'Phemie had begun to feel rather unhappy by this time. Mrs.
Pritchett swept them up the aisle ahead of her as though she were shooing
a flock of chickens with her ample skirts.

They went through the vestibule with a rush. Lucas was ready with the
ponies. Mrs. Pritchett was evidently very angry over her encounter with
the teacher; and she could not fail to hold the Bray girls somewhat
accountable for her daughter's failure to keep the interest of Mr. Somers.

She said but little on the drive homeward. There had been something said
earlier about the girls going down to the Pritchett farm for dinner; but
the angry lady said nothing more about it, and Lyddy and 'Phemie were
rather glad when Hillcrest came into view.

"Ye better stop in an' go along down to the house with us," said the
good-natured Lucas, hesitating about turning the ponies' heads in at the
lane.

"Oh, we could not possibly," Lyddy replied, gracefully. "We are a thousand
times obliged for your making it possible for us to attend church. You
are all so kind, Mrs. Pritchett. But this afternoon I must plead the
wicked intention of writing letters. I haven't written a line to one of
my college friends since I came to Hillcrest."

Mrs. Pritchett merely grunted. Lucas covered his mother's grumpiness by
inconsequential chatter with 'Phemie while he drove in and turned the
ponies so that the girls could get out.

"A thousand thanks!" cried 'Phemie.

"Good-day!" exclaimed Lyddy, brightly.

Mrs. Pritchett's bonnet only shook the harder, and she did not turn to
look at the girls. Lucas cast a very rueful glance in their direction as
he drove hastily away.

"Now we've done it!" gasped 'Phemie, half laughing, half in disgust.

"Why! whatever is the matter, do you suppose?" demanded her sister.

"Well, if you can't see _that_----"

"I see she's angry over Sairy and the school teacher--poor man! But what
have we to do with that?"

"It's your fatal attractiveness," sighed 'Phemie. Then she began to
laugh. "You're a very innocent baby, Lyd. Don't you see that Maw Pritchett
thought--or hoped--that she had Mr. Somers nicely entangled with Sairy?
And he neglected her for you. Bing! it's all off, and we're at outs with
the Pritchett family