`` Oh , I feel as if I could never get over such a mortification ! Peter , I do wish you would n't go telling people they ought to go to church . It 's all your fault that this happened . '' `` Never mind , it will be a good story to tell sometime , '' remarked the Story Girl with relish . CHAPTER XXII . THE YANKEE STORM In an August orchard six children and a grown-up were sitting around the pulpit stone . The grown-up was Miss Reade , who had been up to give the girls their music lesson and had consented to stay to tea , much to the rapture of the said girls , who continued to worship her with unabated and romantic ardour . To us , over the golden grasses , came the Story Girl , carrying in her hand a single large poppy , like a blood-red chalice filled with the wine of August wizardry . She proffered it to Miss Reade and , as the latter took it into her singularly slender , beautiful hand , I saw a ring on her third finger . I noticed it , because I had heard the girls say that Miss Reade never wore rings , not liking them . It was not a new ring ; it was handsome , but of an old-fashioned design and setting , with a glint of diamonds about a central sapphire . Later on , when Miss Reade had gone , I asked the Story Girl if she had noticed the ring . She nodded , but seemed disinclined to say more about it . `` Look here , Sara , '' I said , `` there 's something about that ring -- something you know . '' `` I told you once there was a story growing but you would have to wait until it was fully grown , '' she answered . `` Is Miss Reade going to marry anybody -- anybody we know ? '' I persisted . `` Curiosity killed a cat , '' observed the Story Girl coolly . `` Miss Reade has n't told me that she was going to marry anybody . You will find out all that is good for you to know in due time . ''
When the Story Girl put on grown-up airs I did not like her so well , and I dropped the subject XXXXX a dignity that seemed to amuse her mightily .
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