They had only been four days at the school, but short as the time had been they had grown fond of it—fond of the work and the children, and who can tell how fond and proud of the little house that nestled against the school building!
Lucy was like a child in her unrestrained joy and delight, and if Leslie took their good fortune more quietly, she was not lacking in gratitude. In this new life she would not only find peace, please God, but work—work that in time might bring her forgetfulness of the past. And the forgetfulness, for which she prayed nightly, was as much of happiness as she dared hope for.
The lily that has been beaten down by the storm may live and bloom still, but the chances are that it will never again rear its stately head as of old.
The evening hymn was finished; Leslie struck the bell on the desk before her, and in her sweet voice said "Good-afternoon, children," and with an answering "Good-afternoon, teachers," the children trooped out.
Lucy went and stood beside Leslie, and watched the happy throng as it ran laughing and shouting to the meadow.
"How happy they are, Leslie, and how good, too! I am sure they are the best children in the world! And many of them are so pretty and rosy; and they are all healthy—all except two or three. I should hate to have a school full of sickly, undergrown children, all peevish and weary and discontented; but all ours are cheerful and willing."
"They would find it hard to be otherwise where you are, Lucy," said Leslie, looking at the happy face with a loving smile.
"Oh, I—oh, yes; I'm cheerful enough," said Lucy, laughing and blushing. "I'm just running over with happiness and contentment; but I'm afraid that they couldn't get on very fast if I were quite alone with them. They wouldn't mind me enough. Now you—"
"Are they afraid of me?" said Leslie, smiling.
"No, no!" Lucy hastened to respond. "Afraid? no, no! But they look up to you, and think more of your good opinion already. Oh, I can see that, short as the time has been. They were quite right up in London in making you the head-mistress, dear. Are you tired, Leslie? It has been rather hot for the time of year, and the children, good as they are, make a noise. Does your head ache? I'm afraid you will find it rather trying at first."