Some of the other girls would begin in the autumn at other and more famous schools—college preparatory schools, and the like. Nancy loved books, and she hoped for a college education, too; dimly, in some way, she hoped to find means of preparing for college. But how? That was the problem.
One noon, as Nancy filed into the long, cool dining room, Miss Prentice, who often stood at the door to review the girls as they filed before her, tapped Nancy on the shoulder.
“My room after luncheon, Miss Nancy,” said the principal, severely.
She always spoke severely, so this did not disturb the girl. But the latter was so anxious about her own affairs that she flushed deeply and only played with her food.
Both of these things did not trouble Nancy. In the first place, she was very pretty when she blushed, having an olive complexion and dark, crisp hair which she wore in two plaits down her back. And she was so plump that the loss of luncheon wasn’t going to hurt her.
She was glad when the bell rang for the girls to rise and listen to Miss Trigg’s murmured “thanks for meat.” Then she ran eagerly over to the principal’s cottage and found Miss Prentice waiting for her.
“I have heard from Mr. Gordon,” began that lady.
“My guardian!” gasped Nancy, clasping her hands.
“I do not know that he is your guardian,” responded Miss Prentice, with an admonitory look. “You must remember that he merely pays your fees here.”
“Well!” breathed Nancy, trying to contain herself within bounds.