"Yes, I am sure you will. How do you like your companions?" I asked.
"I think a good many of them are nice. But it takes me a long time to know strangers, I suppose because I scarcely ever saw any."
"And your teachers?" I inquired.
"Oh, they are all very kind, especially to me, because I come from so far away and have no mother! I like my music teacher best, though. I wish you knew her."
"I must make her acquaintance some time," I remarked; "I want to know all your friends."
"The French teacher is the crossest. She isn't a nun, though, and doesn't wear a nun's dress. She scolds me if I don't know the verbs or if I make mistakes in spelling. I told her the other day that I didn't want a stranger to speak so to me. The girls all laughed, but she didn't understand what I was saying."
"Just as well in that case." And I laughed, picturing to myself the little girl addressing the Frenchwoman with her princess air.
We were standing all this time in the hall, which was not altogether according to rule, as I well knew; for farewells are usually made in the parlor. But I had not the heart to send Winifred away, and the presiding Religious did not appear to notice. I fancy the nuns often strained the rule a little in her regard, taking the circumstances into consideration.
"Good-by till Tuesday!" Winifred called after me, as I stepped out into the porch; "and thank you for all the nice things you have brought me!"