She had discovered from experience that, though somewhat nervous at the presence of visitors, the boys were also exhilarated by it. It was novel for them to be the focusof attention to persons of quality.
Mr. Carver strode to the back of the room and stood with his hands behind his back for several minutes whileRebecca continued with her lesson on Greek mythology.
“Coo, miss,” one of the bolder boys said when she had described the Parthenon to them, “do any of them buildings still exist?”
“I would not think so, Teddy,” she said, “though there are many buildings in England now, you know, that imitate ancient Greek architecture.”
“Pardon me,” Mr. Carver said in his deep voice, “butyou are quite mistaken, Miss Shaw. There are still many signs of ancient Greek civilization in Greece. Been there,”he ended lamely.
‘‘Oh, have you?” Rebecca said. “How I envy you! Do share your memories with us, sir.”
The boys turned around to him with eager faces.
And so Mr. Carver found himself in the unlikely role of guest speaker at the village school, telling an enthralledaudience about his travels in Greece and answering innumerable questions. When the time came for school to closefor the day and Rebecca announced the fact, there was acollective moan of disappointment from the boys.
She turned to Mr. Carver, laughter in her eyes as the last of her pupils dragged himself almost unwillingly fromthe building. “You have missed your calling, sir,” shesaid. “If you could just see these boys as they usually arewhen the end of the day comes. If they were just a littlestronger, I believe they would leave the school withouteven opening the door first, such is their haste to beoutside.”
“Glad to be of assistance,” Mr. Carver said. “Ain’t much of a speaker, though.”
“How can you say that,” Rebecca said, “when you saw how delighted the boys were with what you had tosay? And I too,” she added. “I have never before had thechance to speak to someone who has actually been toGreece. It is the ambition of my life to travel there and toItaly.”
“Could come in next time you are here,” Mr. Carver said, “and tell the boys about Italy.”
“Oh, would you?” Rebecca said, her tone dispelling any fear he might have had that she was being merelypolite.
“Walk you home,” Mr. Carver offered. “I can lead m’horse by the reins. Unless you would like to ride, thatis. Won’t suggest that we ride together. Poor animalwould collapse in the middle.” He gave a short bark of alaugh.
“I would far prefer to walk,” Rebecca said, “and I should be delighted with your company, sir.”
They talked about the school for part of the journey until Mr. Carver changed the subject. ‘‘I hear Miss Shaw’sankle is bad enough to confine her to home,” he saidgruffly.
“Yes, indeed,” Rebecca said. “But poor Harriet hates to be immobile. I predict that she will be up and aboutwithin the next day or so.”
“Serves her right,” Mr. Carver said. “Hope the injury will teach her some sense. Glad she didn’t break anybones, though. Wouldn’t wish the little chit any real harm.”
“Well, I would have to agree with you that she deserved the accident,” Rebecca said candidly. “She hasbeen dreadfully spoiled all her life, you see, and still feelsthat all her whims should be gratified instantly. I think areally strong person might still force her to grow up.Despite all evidence to the contrary, I have always believed that there is some good in Harriet. However, I dobelieve that any man with the necessary strength of character would cry off as soon as he saw how selfish and willfulshe is.”
“Hm,” Mr. Carver said, “all she needs is one good thrashing when she does something like that escapade atthe castle. I would have given it to her in a moment had Ibeen her papa or her brother.”
“Yes,” Rebecca agreed, “or her husband.”
It had been a totally innocent remark. Yet glancing up at the big man who walked beside her, Rebecca was completely taken aback at the flood of color that rushed to hisface. He withdrew a large handkerchief from his pocketand affected a coughing spell that lasted for all of oneminute.
“Pardon me, ma’am,” he said when he had recovered himself, “not used to so much walking.”
Rebecca said nothing but resumed the walk, which had halted while he coughed. She was feeling somewhat stunned.Had she been mistaken? Did Mr. Carver have atendreforHarriet? It was not possible, surely. Since his arrival a few weeks before, he had shown nothing but contempt for hercousin. And well he might. Harriet had made no effort tohide the disdain she felt for his giant figure. Poor Mr.Carver. If he really were nursing tender feelings for Harriet, he was doomed to nothing but disappointment.
Mr. Carver was obviously concerned with changing the subject. “Sinclair was at the school yesterday,” he said.“Seems to have become attached to that protégé of his.”
“Protégé?” Rebecca said.
“Young lad with the eyeglasses,” Mr. Carver said. “Says that he saw promise in that lad from the first day hesaw him—time when you pointed out that he could scarcelysee, I believe.”
“Protégé,” Rebecca repeated. “He has the nerve to use that word. Well, that is the outside of enough. Philip wentout of his way to finance a school; both he and I haveworked hard to teach Cyril; I discovered his disability;Philip used money he can ill afford to buy the boyeyeglasses—and he is Mr. Sinclair’s protégé! Merely because Mr. Sinclair has spent a few hours with the boy,helping him to read. He is nothing but a town dandy.”
“I say,” Mr. Carver exclaimed, “not quite fair, Miss Shaw. Sinclair don’t like it to be known that he helps thepoor, but he has already spent a large part of his fortune onprojects like this school of yours, y’know.”
“No, I do not know,” Rebecca said. She was so irritated by the presumption of the man in calling Cyril his protégéthat she was not prepared to listen to reason. “Ifhe has so much money to give to charity, where was hewhen we needed a school here, and where was he whenwe were puzzling over the problem of purchasing eyeglassesfor Cyril? It is said that charity begins at home, Mr.Carver.”
