“HAVE YOU NOT BEEN DECEIVED THIS TIME?”
When Miss Preston arrived upon the scene Toinette was serenely making her way upstairs, her burdens still in her arms, but supplemented by several lemons and a bottle of pickles. She took no notice whatever of the new arrival, but walked straight to her own room, and, placing her treasures upon her bed, covered them carefully with her bedclothes. At this covert act poor Mrs. Stone gasped despairingly, and, grasping Miss Preston’s arm, said, in a most tragic whisper: “Marion, Marion, what did I tell you?”
But “Marion” was very much alive to the situation, and, had not a slight quiver about Toinette’s mouth while Mrs. Stone was speaking confirmed her suspicions, some very audible giggles from the rooms close at hand would have done so.
Having tucked her ham snugly to bed, Toinette proceeded to tuck herself there, and, with a sigh as innocent as a tired infant’s, she closed those staring eyes and slipped off to the land of dreams.
“Well, I think the first act is ended,” said Miss Preston, with the funniest of smiles, “and we shall not have the second to-night, at any rate. But this one was certainly performed by a star,” and, stepping to Toinette’s bedside, she quietly drew from beneath the covers the “dry stores” there sequestered, placed them upon the table, and then smoothed the clothes carefully about her.
Mrs. Stone began to gather up the articles Miss Preston laid upon the table, and, consequently, did not see her slyly pinch the rosy cheek resting upon the pillow nor the flash of intelligence which two big brown eyes sent back.
They then left Toinette to her slumbers (?), and, after carrying the pilfered articles back to the housekeeper’s pantry, returned to Miss Preston’s room, where Mrs. Stone dropped into the first chair that came handy. She was as near a nervous collapse as she well could be, and came very close to losing her temper when Miss Preston seated herself upon her couch, clasped her hands before her, and laughed as poor Mrs. Stone had never known her to laugh before.
“Why, Marion! Marion!” she cried. “Have you taken leave of your senses?”
It was some seconds before Miss Preston could control her voice enough to reply, and, when she did, it proved the very last straw to complete Mrs. Stone’s discomfiture, for her words were:
“Mehitable Stone, had anyone told me that I was sheltering beneath my roof-tree such a consummate actress, I should have been the most surprised woman in Montcliff. Upon my word I never saw anything better done.”
“Acting!” exclaimed Mrs. Stone, aghast. “You do not for one moment imagine that poor child was acting? Impossible! Why, she was as sound asleep as she ever was in all her life, and there was not the least sign that she was conscious of my touch when I took hold of her arm to lead her from the pantry. Do you suppose it would have been possible for her to dissemble to that extent? Never!”
Miss Preston did not answer, but laughed softly again.
It was too much for Mrs. Stone; rising suddenly to her feet, she said, with asperity: “It is useless for us to discuss the matter further to-night, nay, this morning,” looking at the tiny clock ticking away upon Miss Preston’s desk, “but I trust that in broad daylight you may see more clearly. For my part, nothing will ever convince me that that child was deceiving me; my knowledge of girls is too perfect. It was a most pronounced case of somnambulism, the outcome of last night’s injudicious eating, and, in my opinion, a very alarming condition, as one can never tell to what it may lead. Her digestion may be seriously impaired. It is quite unsafe to leave her alone to-night, for she may be seized with another attack at any moment. I shall spend the remainder of the night upon the couch in her room,” and away she went to take up her sentinel duty.
“It is quite unnecessary,” called Miss Preston after the retreating figure, but no heed was given to the words, and when Toinette waked in the morning what was her surprise to find Mrs. Stone bending over her asking, in the most solicitous of voices, if she were feeling quite well.
For a moment Toinette was unable to take in the situation, but her wits got into working order pretty quickly, and only her quivering lips would have betrayed her to a more discerning person. Mrs. Stone, however, saw nothing but an inclination to weep, and, stooping over Toinette, said, soothingly: “There, there, dear, don’t hurry to rise, you are a little nervous this morning and ought to rest.”
But Toinette was at the breakfast table as promptly as anyone, and as she took her seat she gave a quick glance toward Miss Preston; but that astute woman was pouring cream into her coffee-cup. An hour later, when all were scurrying about getting ready for the walk to the schoolhouse, which was situated several blocks from the home house and its adjacent cottages, Toinette came face to face with Miss Preston in one of the upper halls. Both stopped short, looked each other squarely in the eyes, and said nothing. Then Miss Preston’s eyes began to smile, and her mouth followed their example, and, placing one finger under Toinette’s chin, she said:
“I am forced to admit that it was one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen, and extremely well done, but it scared Mrs. Stone nearly to death; so, please, don’t favor us with the second act.”
And that was the only allusion ever made by Miss Preston to the midnight ramble, nor was it ever repeated for Mrs. Stone’s benefit, although nothing could ever have persuaded the good lady that she had been the victim of a hoax that night.
It would have been difficult to find a more consummate teacher than Miss Preston, or one who, without their ever suspecting it, could so bring her girls up to the mark. It was a rare exception when she failed to accomplish her aim, and her tact was truly wonderful. There was rarely a harsh word spoken, although Miss Preston could speak sharply enough when occasion required. But she seldom felt that it did. She had most unique methods, and they proved wonderfully successful. Then, too, some very old-fashioned ideas were firmly imbedded in her mind, which in the present day and age are often forgotten. That bad spelling is a disgrace to any girl was one of these, and most nobly did she labor to make such a disgrace impossible for any of her girls.
Knowing how cordially human nature detests doing the very thing best for it, she never had regular spelling lessons in the school, but twice a week every girl in it, big and little alike, gathered in the large assembly room to choose sides and spell each other down. So irresistibly funny were these spelling matches, and so admirably did they display Miss Preston’s peculiar power over the girls, and their response to her wonderful magnetism, that I think they deserve a chapter to themselves.