They were winding round into Elm Avenue, with great bunches of wild flowers and bright leaves, and one girl with an armful of golden-rod.
"I am much obliged for the talk," and with a sudden abruptness Miss Craven disappeared.
Helen looked after her a moment. She was lonely and unhappy. She would like very much to know her story. The girls speculated upon her and decided that she was a nobody come into a fortune. Private lessons, of necessity, cost more, so she must have money. Then her clothes, though not showy, were expensive and had a true modiste air. There was evidently something she did not want the world to know; she had not been used to society, and she was hopelessly plain. Miss Mays made rhymes about her on the Lear nonsense pattern. You really couldn't help laughing at a great deal of bright criticism she indulged in if her comments were rather sarcastic.
Helen ran down the steps out to the sidewalk, looking happy and merry.
"You poor child, you are not yet resolved into a demi-semi-quaver or any other shaky thing. But you should have been with us! I was awfully afraid of snakes, and one had to sit down and help to pick out the beggar ticks, though I long to give them the old-fashioned, appropriate country name. Why such things were allowed to grow I can't see. We discovered a new rivulet meandering down the mountain side, and a royal bed of ferns, and one of two new specimens of bloom. As for you—I observe the jabberwock has not slain you, so I suppose you conquered him!"
Helen laughed as she took Roxy's outstretched hand, which she could not very well help, and said, "I have the answer of a good conscience."
"And we have the answer of sights and sounds and a wonderful sunset."
"Yes, I saw that."
The girls were talking across each other and showing flowers. Becky, the general factotum, brought a jardiniere and put in all but the golden-rod, which was reserved for a tall Japanese vase, and they were set on each side of the hall door. Then the crowd went to fix up a little for dinner.
Helen stole a furtive glance over at Miss Craven. She was simply stolid, indifferent, and went to her room while the others paced up and down the piazza in twos and threes, exchanging confidences, or someone sang a song in the long parlor. Miss Lane, down in one corner of the veranda, was telling Greek legends to half a dozen girls. It was a picture of friendly content and enjoyment.