Mary Taylor, alone of the committee, took her commission so seriously as to be anxious to begin work.
“We are to visit the school this morning, you know,” she reminded the others, looking at her watch; “I’m afraid we’re late already.”
The remark created mild consternation. It seemed that Mr. ¬ÝVanderpool had gone hunting and his wife had not yet arisen. Dr. ¬ÝBoldish was very hoarse, Mr. ¬ÝEasterly was going to look over some plantations with Colonel Cresswell, and Mr. ¬ÝBocombe was engrossed in a novel.
“Clever, but not true to life,” he said.
Finally the clergyman and Mr. ¬ÝBocombe, Mrs. ¬ÝGrey and Mrs. ¬ÝVanderpool and Miss Taylor started for the school, with Harry Cresswell, about an hour after lunch. The delay and suppressed excitement among the little folks had upset things considerably there, but at the sight of the visitors at the gate Miss Smith rang the bell.
The party came in, laughing and chatting. They greeted Miss Smith cordially. Dr. ¬ÝBoldish was beginning to tell a good story when a silence fell.
The children had gathered, quietly, almost timidly, and before the distinguished company realized it, they turned to meet that battery of four hundred eyes. A human eye is a wonderful thing when it simply waits and watches. Not one of these little things alone would have been worth more than a glance, but together, they became mighty, portentous. Mr. ¬ÝBocombe got out his notebook and wrote furiously therein. Dr. ¬ÝBoldish, naturally the appointed spokesman, looked helplessly about and whispered to Mrs. ¬ÝVanderpool:
“What on earth shall I talk about?”