BOOK III.
LATER YEARS.
CHAPTER I.
IN THE HOLIDAYS.
“The habit of viewing things cheerfully, and of thinking about life hopefully, may be made to grow up in us, like any other habit.”
Those who never saw Miss Buss in real holiday mood could not be said to know her at all. As an educationalist she was instructive, admirable, awe-inspiring; but as a friend and companion attractive, captivating, lovable. She talked “education” where she thought her hearers were interested, and this subject always interested herself. Also, she often went on little educational missions of advice or instruction, and then poured out of her full stores very freely. But such occasions were not holidays. When she took holiday, she took it thoroughly, and those who joined her holiday parties all speak of them as Miss Hickey speaks of one which we enjoyed together—
“I had met Miss Buss before, but the first time I really knew her was when we spent that Christmas at Clifton with her and you and Mrs. Bryant and Miss Emma Elford and Mr. Frank Buss. And since then I have even felt that no one could have truly known her who had never been with her ‘out of school,’ and I have been very glad to have then laid the foundation of a true friendship with so great and noble a woman.
“Most people know of her remarkable power as an organizer; of her intense interest in her work; of her high conscientiousness; of her openness to new ideas, and readiness to give a fair test to new methods; but few people are aware of the power she had of throwing off the school-mistress, and of not only entering into interests completely apart from educational ones, but of entering into them with an unconsciousness of her position, and an ignoring of what she had done.”
This stay at Clifton was memorable to me in my discovery of Miss Buss as a housekeeper. She managed for all the party—indeed, I do not think any one of us could possibly have ventured on arrangements or other management while she was there to do it. Her readiness, skill, and economy made a deep impression on us.
On another occasion, years later, she came as our guest to my sister and myself at Torquay. Up to Christmas we had revelled in sunshine, driving every day in an open carriage, and to this we invited her; also choosing for her the room with the finest view. But she came for a week of fog, such (so we were told) as Torquay had never before known. We had one or two misty drives, and the view was rarely visible. But she took it as it came with placid sweetness, working, reading, or talking, and was the least exacting guest we had ever known. And, afterwards, she could only recall the fact of complete restfulness, forgetting that there had been a fog.