At the Rendezvous

The examination was over and school ended for me, before I had
one half hour to spare to go to see Miss Cardigan. The
examination had passed as I could have wished it might; all
had gone well; and I could afford to put by that whole train
of thought, even as I put up my school-books and stowed them
away; being things that I should not immediately want again.
Some time would pass, it was likely, before I would need to
refresh my memory with mathematics or philosophy. My music was
another matter, and I kept that out.

I put my books hastily as well as securely away; and then took
my hat and rushed over to Miss Cardigan's. It was a very warm
June day. I remember now the cool feeling of her marble hall.
Miss Cardigan sat in her matted parlour, busy as always,
looking quiet and comfortable in a white muslin wrapper, and
neat as a pin; also an invariable thing. Something in the
peaceful, settled, calm air of the place impressed me, I
suppose, with a feeling of contrast; of an uninvaded,
undisturbed domain, which changes were not threatening. I had
gone over the street hurriedly; I walked into the room with a
slow step.

"Daisy! my dear child!" Miss Cardigan exclaimed, - "is it you?
and is all over? I see it is. Just sit down, and you shall
have some strawberries; you look tired, my love."