"Miss Reid will be nineteen in June, about the time she graduates, and several of the girls are nearly eighteen or over."
"But they will have finished their education. I have only just begun mine," protestingly.
"Then there will be the more years to study," with a bright joyous emphasis. "It's like a climb up a mountain, perhaps the Alps or the Andes, when you have to come back and try over the next day, and a good many days, only it grows easier all the time."
"Do you know what I heard one of the girls call me?" and Miss Craven flushed so deep a red it was almost brown.
Helen flushed, too, but she asked nonchalantly, "What?"
"An old maid! And she said she didn't know what I wanted to come to school for. I would never know enough to teach. Do you suppose she would dare call Miss Aldred an old maid?"
"Oh, the girls do call each other that, and they don't mean anything," said Helen lightly.
"They were talking about me, not to me. It doesn't make me a day older, I know, but it keeps me from being friendly and at home, don't you see? My way is paid as well as theirs—it costs me more, for I have private lessons. I have as good right to the school as anybody, whether I want to teach or not."
Helen looked at her in amazement. She had never seen so much spirit in her face. If she could be roused, not by anger merely, but some potent power. Happiness and love might do it.
"Oh, now I have offended you——"