For one moment Sarah held on and then jumped--into the remains of the
janitor's rubbish fire!
Sarah Ford picked herself up. Her white dress was covered with soot and
dirt. The classes were called by this time, and she could not go into
the cloak room.
"Oh, that horrid mean thing, Tavia Travers!" she thought. "I will not
give the girls a chance to laugh at me," and, darting out of the gate,
she ran down the lane--away from school.
At the end of the lane the girl turned into an orchard and sank down
under an apple tree.
Had she really run away from school? She could not turn back now, and
what would her father say? He was so severe about school, he never would
take any excuse.
The black soot had almost all blown off her dress. If she had not been
so proud always, about her looks, perhaps she would not have noticed it
much.
"Oh, what will I do to that girl!" she thought. "It was all her fault,
and I'll lose my place too."
The sense of bitterness that filled Sarah Ford's heart was an entirely
different sentiment from that which animated Tavia Travers when she made
up, the "running under" game. The one was the sense of revenge, bitter
and cunning; the other was a matter of school girl's fun, pure and
simple.
Sitting there on the grass that revengeful spirit took the form of a
resolve in Sarah's heart--to "pay back" Tavia Travers.
Pages:
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56