They read Miss Edgeworth--"Helen," "Belinda."-- "Oh, thunder!" they cried, and dropped the book to think of Hope.
Hope Wayne was not unconscious of the adoration she excited.

If a swarm of school-boys can not enter a country church without turning all their eyes toward one pew, is it not possible that, when a girl comes in and seats herself in that pew, the very focus of those burning glances, even Dr.Peewee may not entirely distract her mind, however he may rivet her eyes?
As she takes her last glance at the Sunday toilet in her sunny dressing-room at home, and half turns to be sure that the collar is smooth, and that the golden curl nestles precisely as it should under the moss rose-bud that blushes modestly by the side of a lovelier bloom--is it not just supposable that she thinks, for a wayward instant, of other eyes that will presently scan that figure and face, and feels, with a half-flush, that they will not be shocked nor disappointed?
There was not a boy in Mr.Gray's school who would have dared to dream that Hope Wayne ever had such a thought.

When she appeared behind Grandfather Burt and the gold-headed cane she had no more antecedents in their imaginations than a rose or a rainbow.

They no more thought of little human weaknesses and mundane influences in regard to her than they thought of cold vapor when they looked at sunset clouds.
During the service Hope sat stately in the pew, with her eyes fixed upon Dr.Peewee.She knew the boys were there.

From time to time she observed that new boys had arrived, and that older ones had left.