"And you?" asked Quin eagerly. "You'll be there every Sunday?"
Her face, which had been all smiles, underwent a sudden change. She said
with something perilously like a pout:
"No, I shan't; I'm to be shipped off to school next week."
"School?" repeated Quin incredulously. "What do you want to be going back
to school for?"
"I _don't_ want to. I hate it. It's the price I am paying for that dance
I had with you at the Hawaiian Garden--that and other things."
"What do you mean?"
"Some old tabby of a chaperon saw me there and came and told my
grandmother."
"But what could she have told? You didn't do anything you oughtn't to."
Miss Bartlett shook her head. It was evidently something she could not
explain, for she sat staring gloomily at the wall above the bed, then she
said abruptly: "Well, I must be going. Good-by if I don't see you again!"
"But you will," announced Quin fiercely. "You are going to see me next
Sunday at the Martels'. I'll be there if I land in the guard-house for
it."
"Why, your time's up Saturday, isn't it? Oh! I forgot those three extra
days. Captain Phipps has got to let you off. He will if I tell him to.
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