In almost every respect she was much better off here than when in the hands of Madam Sharpe, but though never alone, as in the old days, she was often as lonely as when she sat secluded in the kitchen-bedroom of the clairvoyant, lonely for the love, the tenderness, that her child heart had longed for so long and so vainly.
After all that Posey had had to do when with the “Madam” it was not hard for her to learn to make paper boxes quickly and well. In the schoolroom, too, she was soon able to take a place near the head of her class, something that gave her not a little pride. Rewards were not offered to the scholars, but one day a reward came to her that she never forgot, and that had not a little influence in shaping her future. It was at the close of a session when she had acquitted herself with even more than her usual credit, and Miss Grey, the teacher, in passing her desk as she was putting her books in order, stopped with a pleasant smile and said, “Posey, I am very glad to see you so ambitious in your studies; if you will study and try I think you can one day make a teacher.”
It was to Posey a new idea, and the stirring of her first real ambition. Was it possible that she could become a teacher like Miss Grey, and have pupils who should in like manner admire her, and, best of all, make a place and earn a living for herself? Her heart thrilled, first with the idea, and again with the determination that it should be possible. And Miss Grey, busy with her many pupils and manifold duties, went her way unconscious of the ray of promise she had given, a ray that should shine as a day-star of hope through many a long day. For that matter, she had no idea of the feeling she had inspired in Posey’s heart, how she watched, admired, and imitated her, absorbed her ideas, was influenced by her opinions, and when she finally left, for a home of her own, missed her.
With all the teachers and matrons Posey was in the main a favorite. But for the study of individual character there was scant time; when she was good, little attention was paid to her, when she was naughty she received the punishment she had incurred. For while Posey possessed a certain intrepid strength of purpose that carried her over many a hard place, as well as in her work and lessons, these were coupled with an impulsiveness of action and warmth of temper that often brought her into temporary disgrace.
Still, on the whole, the year and a half she passed at the Refuge was as happy as any she had spent since her mother’s death. But one day a summons came for her to the Superintendent’s office, where sat a stout lady, with a face of hard, mottled red flesh, one whom she had noticed a little while before making the rounds of the rooms.
“Yes,” she said, regarding Posey with a fixed gaze of her beady black eyes, “I think I will try this one. I’ll take her home with me and keep her for a while, anyway. No, I don’t care to ask her any questions. I wouldn’t know much more if I did, and I can find out enough in short order. So hurry and get yourself ready,” to Posey, “for I’ve no time to lose.” And when Posey heard this she hardly knew whether she ought to be glad or sorry.
The Refuge did not let its charges go out without providing as far as possible for their welfare and future. As Mrs. Hagood had furnished ample references as to her capability for such a charge; and as she further promised to give Posey good care, moral instruction, and the advantage of the school in her village, the Refuge authorities felt that in this case they had amply done their duty. So in a very short time Posey’s few belongings were packed, the parting words said, and in company with Mrs. Hagood she had passed and left behind the tall wrought-iron gates of the Refuge.
To live in the country had always been to Posey a dream of delight, though her knowledge of the country was limited to fleeting views from car windows. She had, too, a faint memory of stories her mother had once told her of the happiness of a childhood spent among orchards and meadows; and with all these in mind she had often looked at the dusty trees bordering the stone-paved streets, and the swift-flowing streams that filled the gutters after a rain, trying to cheat imagination into the belief that they were real brooks and genuine woods.
So now when Mrs. Hagood told her that her new home was to be in a little country village her heart beat high with anticipation, and she decided that she was glad she was going. On their way to the train in the street cars they skirted the Haymarket, and Posey looked out with mingled feelings at the tall brick building, the scene of her memorable misadventure. Not that she had any desire to return to Madam Sharpe. With a child’s quick intuition for shams, the clairvoyant’s manifold deceptions had inspired her with anything but a profound respect, nor had she by any means forgotten the cruelty of her desertion. Besides, was she not now going into the beautiful country, to be as free as a bird among the birds and flowers?