I don't remember whether I have stated that the master was a young man--it's of little consequence, however; he had been severely educated in the school in which Clytie was taking her first lesson, and, on the whole, withstood the flexible curves and factitious glance like the fine young Spartan that he was.

Perhaps an insufficient quality of food may have tended to this asceticism.

He generally avoided Clytie; but one evening, when she returned to the schoolhouse after something she had forgotten, and did not find it until the master walked home with her, I hear that he endeavored to make himself particularly agreeable--partly from the fact, I imagine, that his conduct was adding gall and bitterness to the already overcharged hearts of Clytemnestra's admirers.
The morning after this affecting episode Mliss did not come to school.
Noon came, but not Mliss.

Questioning Clytie on the subject, it appeared that they had left the school together, but the willful Mliss had taken another road.

The afternoon brought her not.