The same writer gives a glimpse of the brightest side of the relation between the head and her Myra girls—
“Miss Buss would often come round and see we were quite comfortable in our beds, and give us a maternal ‘tuck-up.’ One morning at breakfast she came behind my chair, and, turning my chin up with her hand to look in my face, said with laughing voice and eye—
“‘Well, did I cheat you last night?’
“A vision of a figure in red dressing-gown tucking me up and kissing me sprang into my mind, and I said—
“‘Oh, I remember; I thought it was mother.’
“And, whispering to me, she said, as she kissed me, ‘I thought so, dear; you gave me such a hug, you sent me so happy to bed!’”
And this, again, from another old pupil, is equally attractive—
“Never shall I forget her kindness when confined to my room at Myra by illness. It was the bright spot in my day when Miss Buss appeared in the evening to tuck me up in bed, and wish me good night. More than once she was on her way to some dinner or meeting, and wore a blue moiré, which I thought singularly becoming. Her smile, peculiarly sweet, piquant, and gracious, lighted up my long, dull hours, and lingers with me still.
“There was something so large and unfluctuating about her that one felt one could trust her with and through everything.”
An apparently harmless bit of nonsense brought about another episode which deeply impressed the girl who tells it—