The vigilant watchman, using his daily opportunities of turning his eyes in Bradley’s direction, soon apprized Miss Peecher that Bradley was more preoccupied than had been his wont, and more given to strolling about with a downcast and reserved face, turning something difficult in his mind that was not in the scholastic syllabus. Putting this and that together⁠—combining under the head “this,” present appearances and the intimacy with Charley Hexam, and ranging under the head “that” the visit to his sister, the watchman reported to Miss Peecher his strong suspicions that the sister was at the bottom of it.

“I wonder,” said Miss Peecher, as she sat making up her weekly report on a half-holiday afternoon, “what they call Hexam’s sister?”

Mary Anne, at her needlework, attendant and attentive, held her arm up.

“Well, Mary Anne?”

“She is named Lizzie, ma’am.”