“I’ll bet we are going to have company; I thought so this morning when I see the schoolma’am all dressed up,” whispered one to another—and after a time, Jim Maxwell’s sister ventured to ask me, not _who_ was coming, but “how many.” With a blush, I replied, “Nobody but Dr. Clayton,” wondering why his name should cleave so to the roof of my mouth! In a few minutes, the fact that Dr. Clayton was coming was known both indoors and out, and when I saw how fast John Thompson took himself home, after learning the news, I involuntarily felt as if some evil were impending—a presentiment which proved correct, for not long after school commenced, there came a gentle rap at the outer door, which caused a great straightening up among the scholars, and brought me instantly to my feet, for I supposed, of course, he had come. What, then, was my surprise when, instead of him, I met a haughty-looking young lady, who, frowning majestically upon me, introduced herself as “Miss Thompson,” saying she had come to visit the school. I had never before had so good a view of her, and now, when I saw how dignified she appeared, and that there really was in her manner something elegant and refined, I not only felt myself greatly her inferior, but I fancied that Dr. Clayton would also observe the difference between us when he saw us together. After offering her the seat of honor—my splint-bottomed chair—I proceeded with my duties as composedly as possible, mentally hoping that the doctor would come soon. She probably divined my thoughts, for once, when I cast a wistful glance over the long hill, she said, “You seem to be constantly on the lookout. Are you expecting any one?” Involuntarily my eyes sought hers, but I quailed beneath their quizzical expression, and scarcely knowing what I said, replied, “No, ma’am,” repenting the falsehood the moment it was uttered, and half-resolving to confess the truth, when she rejoined, “Oh, I thought you were,” while at the same moment a little girl, who had been asleep, rolled from her seat, bumping her head, and raising such an outcry that, for a time, I forgot what I had said, and when it again recurred to me I thought it was too late to rectify it. It was the second falsehood I remembered telling, and it troubled me greatly. Turn it which way I would it was a _lie_ still, and it smote heavily upon my conscience. Slowly the afternoon dragged on, but it brought no Dr. Clayton; and when, at a quarter of four, I called up my class of Abecedarians to read, what with the _lie_ and the disappointment, my heart was so full that I could not force back all the tears which struggled so fiercely for egress; and when it came Willie Randall’s turn to read, two or three large drops fell upon his chubby hand, and, looking in my face, he called out in a loud, distinct voice—“You’re cryin’, you be!”