"But she's a beautiful character, if you only knew!" urged Miss Edith. "She's so simple and kind-hearted; and she works so hard! She has an invalid father to keep. He's quite dependent on her, I believe. They live in lodgings in Greyfield. I'm sure I'm often sorry for her, going about to her pupils in all weathers. It's too bad of you girls to make such fun of her! She's a stranger in a strange land, poor thing, with no friends here, and her living to make. Girls are a thoughtless set, as I've found out long ago. You might try to have a little more consideration for her, Gipsy. Just imagine yourself in her place, and fancy you were teaching a class of German girls! Yes, as I said before, I'm sorry for Fräulein Hochmeyer. She has a hard time of it."
Gipsy said nothing, but she retired with ample food for thought. It had never struck her before to take the view of Fräulein that Miss Edith had just presented. The little foreign peculiarities and eccentricities had excited her mirth, but she had quite missed the sterling good qualities that lay underneath them. "'A stranger in a strange land, with no friends here'—I know what that means!" muttered Gipsy to herself. "It's brave of her to work to keep her father! Don't I just wish I—" but here she sighed, for the unuttered wish seemed so entirely hopeless and futile.
After revolving the matter carefully, Gipsy made up her mind that Fräulein Hochmeyer deserved to be helped instead of hindered.
"Though how I'm to do it when she insists on forcing those absurd baby songs upon us, I can't tell. Stop! I've an idea. Oh, I don't know whether I can, but I mean to have a jolly good try! No time like the present. I've half an hour before tea." And furnishing herself with pencil and paper, she ran up to her attic, and was soon puckering her brows in the agonies of composition. As the result of that and several other half-hours of work, she covered two pages of foolscap; then, seeking out Miss Edith, she unfolded her scheme and begged for help.
"I'm afraid you'll think it fearful cheek of me," she began, "but you see the trouble at present in the singing class is that we all abominate those silly little songs. They really sound foolish for girls of our age. Of course Fräulein's composed them herself, and the tunes are very nice. Do you think she'd mind changing the words? It wouldn't matter to her what we were singing so long as the music was the same, would it? But it would make all the difference to us. I made up a few verses that go with the tunes just as well. They're here, if you don't mind looking at them," and Gipsy modestly unfolded her manuscript. "This one's instead of
"'Old hare's little son
Is up to good fun.'
I've called it 'The End of the Term'
"'Now classes are done
And vacation's begun,
Of fun and of leisure
We'll have our full measure.
For it's hip, hip, hooray
For a long holiday!
"'So to lessons goodbye,
While to pleasure we fly.
No rules now need bind us,
All care's cast behind us.
For it's hip, hip, hooray
For a long holiday!'"
Then there's one instead of that dreadful
"'Little Freddie had run to his nurse,
Because his poor headache was worse,'"