Grace had finished her eager narration, and stood twirling her hat in
her hand, hesitating whether she should tell her aunt Geordie's
impression of what sort of people the "Kirklands folk" were; but just at
that moment tea was brought, and on reflection, Grace resolved that, for
the present, it would be wise to keep silent on that point. Two days
passed quickly, and Sunday afternoon found Grace hovering about the
door of the little room which her aunt had given to her for her class.
She had been seated in state at a table which Margery had placed for
her, at what the old nurse considered a suitable angle of distance from
the form arranged for the scholars; but Grace began to think it felt
rather formidable to be waiting seated there, so she gathered up the
books again, and wandered between the avenue and the little room,
waiting with impatience the arrival of her first scholars, and having a
vague fear lest they might not be forthcoming after all.

Meanwhile, Geordie and his little sister were toiling along the dusty
highway in an excited, expectant state of mind. The shady elm avenue was
a refreshing change after the hot white turnpike road. Geordie looked
keenly about him, noting all the well-kept walks and shrubberies, among
which he saw many plants that were not natives of the valley, and
thought he should like, sometime, to examine them more closely.

At last they came in sight of the grey gables of the old mansion, and
little Jean grasped her brother's hand more closely, and looked up with
a frightened glance at the many windows, which seemed to her like so
many great eyes all staring at her. She began to wish that she was
safe back in her granny's cottage again, but consoled herself by
thinking that as long as she had hold of Geordie's hand nothing very
dreadful could possibly happen. Geordie, too, was somewhat overawed by
the nearer view of the "big hoose," which certainly seemed much more