"Do you know if there's any school here that I could get?" said she.

"A school?"

"Yes. I want to get a chance to teach. I've been teaching, but I've
lost my school."

"And you want to get one here?"

"Yes. Do you know of any?"

"Why, see here," said Francis. "It's none of my business, but I
thought you hadn't been very well. Why don't you take a little
vacation?"

"I can't," returned Lois, in a desperate tone. "I've got to do
something."

"Why, won't your aunt--" He stopped short. The conviction that the
stern old woman who had inherited the Maxwell property was too hard
and close to support her little delicate orphan niece seized upon
him. Lois' next words strengthened it.

"I lost my school," she went on, still keeping her face turned toward
the meadow and speaking fast. "Ida Starr got it away from me. Her
father is school-committee-man, and he said he didn't think I was
able to teach, just because he brought me home in his buggy one day
when I was a little faint. I had a note from him that morning
mother--that morning she came down here. I was just going to school,