But there isn't any other school here that I can be sent to, and-- But what's the use?
I might surmise and speculate all day and not come anywhere near the truth.

I must await--what the night will bring forth, as they say in really truly novels.
* * * * * _Four days later_.
And what did the night bring forth?
Yes, what did it bring! Verily it brought forth one thing I thought nothing ever could have brought forth.
It was like this.
That night at the supper-table Aunt Jane cleared her throat in the I-am-determined-I-will-speak kind of a way that she always uses when she speaks to Father.

(Aunt.

Jane doesn't talk to Father much more than Mother used to.) "Charles," she began.
Father had an astronomy paper beside his plate, and he was so busy reading he didn't hear, so Aunt Jane had to speak again--a little louder this time.
"Charles, I have something to say to you." "Eh?
What?
Oh--er--yes.

Well, Jane, what is it ?" Father was looking up with his I'll-be-patient-if-it-kills-me air, and with his forefinger down on his paper to keep his place.
As if anybody could talk to a person who's simply tolerating you for a minute like that, with his forefinger holding on to what he _wants_ to tend to! Why, I actually found myself being sorry for Aunt Jane.
She cleared her throat again.
"It is understood, of course, that Mary is to go to school to-morrow morning, I suppose," she said.
"Why, of course, of course," began Father impatiently, looking down at his paper.