"And oh, how glad I am that he is not Professor Bonfanti!" Nancy said. "It was silly to be so frightened, but if only you knew how hard those months were when he was training me, and old Uncle Steve was threatening all sorts of things if I did not dance well! You see, I was really ill with fear, and homesickness, and Uncle Steve did not seem to see that the more he threatened, the more ill I became. Oh, if I should talk all day, I could not tell you half the misery of those days. Only yesterday one of the girls said that she would not have minded any of the harsh things if only she could have danced on the stage. That is what she thinks, but she doesn't know!"
"Well, Nancy, to-day you are nervous and tired, but I have quieted all your fears, and assured you that you are safe here at Glenmore. Some day when we can arrange it, I would enjoy hearing more of your little career."
"And I'd be willing to tell you, Mrs. Marvin; you've been so kind, and you've comforted me. I shall sleep to-night without any horrid dreams."
Mrs. Marvin felt that Patricia had really intended to frighten Nancy, and she decided to have a quiet little talk with her, and if possible, learn what had prompted her to do so unkind a thing.
It was an odd combination that "Glenmore," one of the best of schools for girls in the country, modern in every respect, and absolutely "up-to-date," should be situated in a town that was quaint, and picturesque, with inhabitants as fanciful, and superstitious as one would find if he had traveled back a century.
True, there were residents who had recently come to the place for a summer home, but the old people of the place clung to their old time superstitions, their firm belief in "signs," their legends handed down from one generation to another, and the newcomers humored them, listened to their "yarns," and asked to hear more. Many of these stories were quite as interesting as any folk tales, and none could tell them with finer effect than old Cornelia Derby.
It was Marcus who had pointed her out to several of the girls who, one morning, chanced to be standing near the gate as the old woman came up the street.
"Oh, Marcus, do you really mean that she can tell all sorts of quaint stories about this old town?" cried Betty Chase.
"I sure does," said Marcus, "and 'nuffin' pleases her like gittin' a chance ter tell 'em ter folks as is willin' ter listen."