Лето
XII
MissHatchard,palewithfatigueandexcitement,thankedheryoungassistants,andstoodintheporch,leaningonhercrutchesandwavingafarewellasshewatchedthemtroopawaydownthestreet.
Charityhadslippedoffamongthefirst;butatthegatesheheardAllyHawescallingafterher,andreluctantlyturned.
“Willyoucomeovernowandtryonyourdress?”Allyasked,lookingatherwithwistfuladmiration.“Iwanttobesurethesleevesdon’truckupthesameastheydidyesterday.”
Charitygazedatherwithdazzledeyes.“Oh,it’slovely,”shesaid,andhastenedawaywithoutlisteningtoAlly’sprotest.Shewantedherdresstobeasprettyastheothergirls’—wantedit,infact,tooutshinetherest,sinceshewastotakepartinthe“exercises”—butshehadnotimejustthentofixhermindonsuchmatters....
Shespedupthestreettothelibrary,ofwhichshehadthekeyaboutherneck.Fromthepassageatthebackshedraggedforthabicycle,andguidedittotheedgeofthestreet.Shelookedabouttoseeifanyofthegirlswereapproaching;buttheyhaddriftedawaytogethertowardtheTownHall,andshesprangintothesaddleandturnedtowardtheCrestonroad.TherewasanalmostcontinualdescenttoCreston,andwithherfeetagainstthepedalsshefloatedthroughthestilleveningairlikeoneofthehawksshehadoftenwatchedslantingdownwardonmotionlesswings.
