"
"My dear Miss Quincey, the rule is always a term's notice--or if--if any
other arrangement is agreed upon, a term's salary. There can be no
question--you must really allow me--"
There Miss Cursiter's address failed her and her voice faltered. She had
extracted the thorn; but it had worked its way deeper than she knew, and
the operation was a painful one. A few compliments on the part of the
Head, and the hope that St. Sidwell's would not lose sight of Miss
Quincey altogether, and the interview was closed.
It was understood by the end of the morning that Miss Quincey had sent in
her resignation. The news spread from class to class--"Miss Quincey is
going"--and was received by pupils and teachers with cries of
incredulity. After all, Miss Quincey belonged to St. Sidwell's; she was
part and parcel of the place; her blood and bones had been built into its
very walls, and her removal was not to be contemplated without dismay.
Why, what would a procession be like without Miss Quincey to enliven it?
And so, as she went her last round, a score of hands that had never
clasped hers in friendship were stretched out over the desks in a wild
leave-taking; three girls had tears in their eyes; one, more emotional
than the rest, sobbed audibly without shame.
Pages:
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122