When school was dismissed that afternoon and the master had remained to
show Rupert Filgee how to prepare Uncle Ben's tasks, and had given his
final instructions to his youthful vicegerent, that irascible Adonis
unburdened himself querulously:
"Is Cressy McKinstry comin' reg'lar, Mr. Ford?"
"She is," said the master dryly. After a pause he asked, "Why?"
Rupert's curls had descended on his eyebrows in heavy discontent. "It's
mighty rough, jest ez a feller reckons he's got quit of her and her
jackass bo', to hev her prancin' back inter school agin, and rigged out
like ez if she'd been to a fire in a milliner's shop."
"You shouldn't allow your personal dislikes, Rupert, to provoke you to
speak of a fellow-scholar in that way--and a young lady, too," corrected
the master dryly.
"The woods is full o' sich feller-scholars and sich young ladies, if
yer keer to go a gunning for 'em," said Rupert with dark and slangy
significance. "Ef I'd known she was comin' back I'd"--he stopped and
brought his sunburnt fist against the seam of his trousers with a boyish
gesture, "I'd hev jist"--
"What?" said the master sharply.
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