“If you will call in the servants, I will read prayers: I suppose Mr. Graham would not object.”
“Oh, no, ma’am.”
In a little time they came in and sat down, wondering at the new ways of the teacher, but joining in the prayers quite reverently, and as they went out again, casting curious glances at the pale quiet face of the reader. As for the children, their appetites were quite forgotten in this new and interesting study of the governess, and Jennie secretly determined to imitate her in her mode of eating. It was really a pleasure to watch the neat, graceful fingers at any work, and the children began to find and to feel something of that subtle charm in perfect grace and tact which mere beauty cannot supply. Though she spoke but little, and did not seem to watch them at all, not a word, not a motion, scarcely a glance of her new pupils escaped her. She was silently deciding upon the character of each.
After breakfast, the whole party ran to the windows, to admire the snow-fall; Miss Lane among the rest. It lay white and pure upon the lawn and the trees, and the sun sparkled over it.
“He giveth snow like wool, and scattereth the hoar-frost like ashes,” said the teacher.
“Who? God?” asked Rosie, who could not be content without caresses, and so had crept shily to the side of the teacher.
“Yes, and do you know why it is like wool?”
“Because it is white,” answered Frank, coming up softly, while the rest followed after a moment of hesitation, and closed round Miss Lane with bashful but eager glances.
“Yes, and for another reason. Because it is warm; it protects the tender wheat, keeps it alive in the ground till the spring opens. It is like your cloaks and overcoats, only so much softer, so much more beautiful.”
“Warm? snow warm? I thought it was cold.”