  A fortnight passed and during that time Miss Gordon and Faith had started Muriel’s development in several directions. In fact, the younger of her teachers soon triumphantly announced that not a pupil at High Cliff Seminary could make a more graceful curtsy than Muriel. The day before the expected arrival of Miss Humphrey, who was to tutor the island girl, she confided to Faith that she just knew that she could make far greater headway with writing and reading if she might continue practicing them with her best friend than she could with a teacher, however learned, who was strange to her. It was evident to the three girls who were her closest comrades that Muriel dreaded the first hour that she was to spend with Miss Humphrey. As usual, the island girl seemed almost to foreknow what was going to happen, and when the moment arrived Muriel retreated within herself so entirely that, at the close of a very trying hour, Miss Humphrey went down to the office of Miss Gordon and remarked: “I must confess that I am extremely disappointed in your prodigy. Her English is deplorable. To correct it will take indefinite patience and far more time than I can spare from my legitimate classwork. Is there not some one who could undertake her instruction during the fall term in the fundamentals?” If Miss Gordon was discouraged her voice did not betray it, when, after a thoughtful moment, she replied: “I am sorry that I asked you to undertake the tutoring of the island girl. I hoped that you would see in her the possibilities of an unusual nature that I still contend are there, but it will, as you say, require infinite patience to develop them. Perhaps I had better make some other arrangement, at least until Muriel has caught up with your Junior English class.” There was real relief pictured on the face that was lined before its time. Rising, Miss Humphrey said: “I am indeed glad that we are agreed on this matter and if Muriel Storm is advanced enough at the midwinter term to enter the junior class I will do all that I can to aid her, but this dialect which she now speaks must be overcome, and that means tireless prompting on the part of some constant companion.” Miss Gordon also arose and said, not unkindly: “Give Doctor Winslow’s protege no more thought until the midwinter term begins.” Then the principal added, with a brightened smile: “I’ll prophesy that Muriel will then be prepared to enter your sophomore class and not your junior.” “Impossible!” Miss Humphrey declared with conviction. “Wonders never cease!” laughed Miss Gordon, who now wished to end the interview. “But who will tutor Muriel Storm that she is to make such phenomenal progress?” With her hand on the knob of the open door Miss Humphrey awaited the answer. “I shall,” Miss Gordon replied. Joy was in the heart of the island girl when she heard this wonderful news. “Oh, I’m that glad, Miss Gordon,” she exclaimed the following evening when, just after dinner, she was summoned to the attractive little apartment in a remote wing of the school to which the principal retired when the tasks of the day were over. The larger of the two rooms was a library and study in which there was a wide fireplace, and on either side long, vine-hung windows that overlooked the Hudson. Low shelves circled the walls and they were filled with book-friends, actually read and loved by their owner. Here and there were soft-toned copies of famous paintings and a few charming originals in water color. Too, there were ferns growing in the wicker window-boxes and a blossoming plant on a low wicker stand. The comfortable, inviting chairs of the same weave were cushioned with soft hues and a shade on the reading lamp harmonized. The little room just beyond, in which Miss Gordon slept, had disappearing windows on all sides, and at night, when these were opened, only the screens sheltered her from the out-of-doors she so loved. As the principal had prophesied, Muriel, in this congenial atmosphere, blossomed not only rapidly but also beautifully. No one but Faith guessed how her friend was advancing and she did not have to guess. She knew. Miss Gordon had sent for Faith on the very day that Miss Humphrey had visited the office, and together they had divided the work and the joy of assisting Muriel. In the beginning the principal had merely planned asking Faith’s advice; it had not been her desire to burden the girl, but at once Faith had said: “Oh, Miss Gordon, I have not told you that for the past two weeks I have been instructing Muriel in penmanship and also in reading and spelling. It is a great pleasure to me to aid her, and if you are willing I shall continue our little class.” The principal’s sweet face brightened. “Thank you, Faith. If you will tutor Muriel in the fundamentals, I will gladly instruct her in the higher branches.” Then she added, and there was a twinkle in the sweet grey-blue eyes: “Miss Humphrey would never be able to understand it, but I actually enjoy reading poetry to that island girl. She sits on a low stool at my feet and with those liquid hazel eyes she drinks into her very soul the beauty of the thought and the music of the rhythm.” “Miss Gordon,” Faith said, “don’t let us tell anyone of Muriel’s progress. Let’s keep it a secret until the midwinter term. I would like to surprise Miss Humphrey—and—and others.” Faith was thinking of Marianne, whom she knew wished to humiliate Muriel. |
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