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 of decisions that had been forced upon her since Mrs. Bevans's death.

"Oh," she cried, with relief in her tone, "is this Mr. Bevans?" and she held out her hand to Johns.

"What, you don't remember me, Miss Curtis?" said he. "My name is Johns."

Miss Curtis was overcome at her stupidity in forgetting the face of one of the school's most influential patrons. "But the fact is, Mr. Johns," she explained, "we are expecting Mr. Austin Bevans this morning, and my head was full of that."

"And I've brought him," said Johns. "This is Mr. Bevans."

Miss Curtis looked at Austin and gave a low cry. "Good heavens!" was all she could think of to say.

Austin saw that it was time to assert bis authority. He spoke firmly. "I should like to speak a few words to the school—pupils and teachers both. Will you call them together."

"But they are in classes," stammered Miss Curtis.

"They must be taken out of them."

"Of course, of course," murmured Miss Curtis, experiencing once again the joy of being under orders. "Please wait a moment