Part 4 (2/2)
”Julia Thayer did; she said knit two and then put over, and knit two and then put over, all the time, and it would come all right.”
”Now, Rose, I didn't!” exclaimed Julia. ”I said put your st.i.tch over, you silly child! I should think you might have known that putting your worsted over would widen it.”
”I know you _didn't_ say put your st.i.tch over,” retorted Rose; ”you just said put over, and how was I going to know by that? I think you're real mean; you never take any pains with us little ones; I don't--”
”Hush, hush, Rose! You must not speak so,” said Miss Christine, laying her hands on the child's lips; then, turning to Julia, she said, ”If you had taken more pains with Rose, and tried to explain to her how she ought to have done her work, it would have been much better for both of you.”
”Well, Miss Christine, she came just as I was thinking up for my composition, and I didn't want to be bothered by any one. As it was, she put all my ideas out of my head.”
Miss Christine's only reply was a shake of the head and an incredulous smile, which made Julia wish she had shown a little more patience with the child.
”There, Rose,” said Miss Christine, as the little girl put the finis.h.i.+ng touch to her sleeves, ”next time you will not have to ask any one to show you how to 'bind off.' Your sleeves are very pretty, and I know your mother will be glad her daughter took so much pains to please her.”
Rose glanced up at her teacher with a bright smile, and went skipping off, ready for fun and frolic, now that those troublesome sleeves were finished. But she had hardly reached the hall when she came running back, saying, in a most mysterious sort of stage-whisper, ”She's coming!
she's coming downstairs with Miss Stiefbach! Rebecca what's-her-name; you know!”
The girls looked up as Miss Stiefbach entered the room, and, although they were too well-bred to actually stare at her companion, it must be confessed that their faces betrayed considerable interest.
Rachel Drayton, the ”new scholar,” was between sixteen and seventeen; tall and very slight; her eyes were very dark; her face intensely pale, but one saw at once it was the pallor of recent illness, or acute mental suffering, not of continued ill-health.
She was dressed in the deepest mourning, in a style somewhat older than that generally worn by girls of her age. Her jet-black hair, which grew very low on her forehead, was brushed loosely back, and gathered into a rough knot behind, as if the owner was too indifferent to her personal appearance to try to arrange it carefully.
As she stood now, fully conscious of the glances that were surrept.i.tiously cast upon her, she appeared frightened and bewildered.
Her eyes were cast down, but if any one had looked under their long lashes, they would have seen them dimmed with tears.
Accustomed all her life to the society of older persons, no one who has not experienced the same feeling can imagine how great an ordeal it was for her to enter that room full of girls of her own age. To notice the sudden hush that fell upon all as she came in; to feel that each one was mentally making comments upon her, was almost more than she could bear.
If they had been persons many years older than herself, she would have gone in perfectly at her ease; chatted first with this one, then with that, and would have made herself at home immediately.
Unfortunately the only young persons in whose society she had been thrown were some young ladies she had met while travelling through the West with her father. They had been coa.r.s.e, foolish creatures, making flippant remarks upon all whom they saw, in a rude, unladylike manner, and from whom she had shrunk with an irresistible feeling of repugnance.
No wonder her heart had sunk within her when she thought that perhaps her future companions might be of the same stamp.
Miss Christine noticed her embarra.s.sment at once, and kindly went forward to meet her, saying as she did so, ”Well, my dear, I am glad to see you down here; I am not going to introduce you to your companions now, you will get acquainted with them all in time; first I want you to come into the school-room with me and see how you like it.”
And she took her hand and led her through the open door into the school-room beyond; talking pleasantly all the time, calling her attention to the view from the windows, the arrangement of the desks, and various other things, until at last she saw her face light up with something like interest, and the timid, frightened look almost entirely disappear; then she took her back into the library.
As they went in, Florence Stevenson, who stood near the fireplace, made room for them, remarking as she did so, ”It is very chilly; you must be cold; come here and warm yourself. How do you like our school-room?”
”Very much; that is, I think I shall. It seems very pleasant.”
”Yes, it is pleasant. It's so much nicer for being papered with that pretty paper than if it had had dark, horrid walls like some I've seen.
What sort of a school did you use to go to?”
”I never went to school before; I always studied at home;” and poor Rachel's voice trembled as she thought of the one who had always directed her studies; but Florence went bravely on, determined to do her part towards making the new scholar feel at home.
”Well, I'm afraid you will find it hard to get used to us, if you have never been thrown with girls before. I don't believe but what you thought we were almost savages; now honestly, didn't you feel afraid to meet us?”
”It was hard,” replied Rachel; but as she glanced up at the bright, animated face before her, she thought that if all her future companions were like this one she should have no great fears for the future.
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