“Quite good,” said Miss Meadows, but still in such a strange, stony tone that the younger girls began to feel positively frightened. “But now that we know it, we shall take it with expression. As much expression as you can put into it. Think of the words, girls. Use your imaginations. _Fast! Ah, too Fast_,” cried Miss Meadows. “That ought to break out—a loud, strong _forte_—a lament. And then in the second line, _Winter Drear_, make that _Drear_ sound as if a cold wind were blowing through it. _Dre-ear!_” said she so awfully that Mary Beazley, on the music stool, wriggled her spine. “The third line should be one crescendo. _Fleetly! Ah, Fleetly Music’s Gay Measure._ Breaking on the first word of the last line, _Passes._ And then on the word, _Away_, you must begin to die... to fade... until _The Listening Ear_ is nothing more than a faint whisper.... You can slow down as much as you like almost on the last line. Now, please.” Again the two light taps; she lifted her arms again. _Fast! Ah, too Fast._ “... and the idea of settling down fills me with nothing but disgust—” Disgust was what he had written. That was as good as to say their engagement was definitely broken off. Broken off! Their engagement! People had been surprised enough that she had got engaged. The Science Mistress would not believe it at first. But nobody had been as surprised as she. She was thirty. Basil was twenty-five. It had been a miracle, simply a miracle, to hear him say, as they walked home from church that very dark night, “You know, somehow or other, I’ve got fond of you.” And he had taken hold of the end of her ostrich feather boa. _Passes away from the Listening Ear._ “Repeat! Repeat!” said Miss Meadows. “More expression, girls! Once more!” _Fast! Ah, too Fast._ The older girls were crimson; some of the younger ones began to cry. Big spots of rain blew against the windows, and one could hear the willows whispering, “... not that I do not love you....” “But, my darling, if you love me,” thought Miss Meadows, “I don’t mind how much it is. Love me as little as you like.” But she knew he didn’t love her. Not to have cared enough to scratch out that word “disgust,” so that she couldn’t read it! _Soon Autumn yields unto Winter Drear._ She would have to leave the school, too. She could never face the Science Mistress or the girls after it got known. She would have to disappear somewhere. _Passes away._ The voices began to die, to fade, to whisper... to vanish.... Suddenly the door opened. A little girl in blue walked fussily up the aisle, hanging her head, biting her lips, and twisting the silver bangle on her red little wrist. She came up the steps and stood before Miss Meadows. “Well, Monica, what is it?” “Oh, if you please, Miss Meadows,” said the little girl, gasping, “Miss Wyatt wants to see you in the mistress’s room.”