Cynthia’s expression of patient resignation was almost too much for Raymonde, but she controlled her countenance and continued:
“They’ll respect you all the more afterwards, no doubt.”
“I hope so. We didn’t rag new girls at The Poplars. I always made a point of showing them they were welcome. It seemed only fair to Miss Gordon. She was more like a personal friend than a teacher, and she looked to me, you see, to keep up the tone of the school.”
“She must be lost without you!”
“I think they’ll miss me,” admitted Cynthia, 26 with a little fluttering sigh of regret. “The girls all subscribed before I left and gave me this bracelet as a keepsake. It’s got an inscription inside. Would you like to look at it?”
Cynthia had unclasped her treasure, and handed it with an assumed nonchalance for Raymonde’s inspection. On the gold band was engraved: “To Cynthia Greene, a token of esteem from her schoolfellows.”
“Highly gratifying!” gurgled Raymonde.
“It was sweet of them, wasn’t it? Well, I tried to do my best for them, and I’ll do my best for this school too when I get the chance. I’m in no hurry. I’m content to wait, and let the girls come round.”
“Quite the best plan. In the meantime, if there are any little tips I can give you, come to me.”
“Thanks awfully! I will. I’d have done the same by you if you’d been a new girl at The Poplars.”