CHAPTER X
CARLA EARLE
School had been dismissed, and the shadows had begun to lengthen in the valley. Esther Bright sat in the doorway of the schoolhouse, leaning against the jamb of the door, her hands resting idly in her lap. At last she lifted a letter she held, and read over again the closing words, "Thy devoted grandfather, David Bright."
She brushed her hand across her cheek more than once, as she sat there, looking off, miles away, to her New England home. She heard a step, and turning, saw Carla Earle approaching. Before she could rise, Carla was at her side, half shy, uncertain of herself. Without the usual preliminary of greeting, Carla said: "Are you homesick?"
She had seen Esther wipe tears from her cheeks.
"A little. I was thinking of my grandfather, and how I'd love to see him. I am always homesick when his letters come. One came to-day."
"I am homesick, too," said Carla, "for my native land, its green turf, its stately trees, the hedges, the cottages, the gardens, the flowers and birds—and—everything!"
"Sit down, Carla. Let's talk. You are homesick for your native land, and I am homesick for my grandfather."
She took one of the English girl's hands in hers, and they talked long of England. At last Carla asked Esther to sing for her. For answer, Esther rose, entered the schoolroom, and returned, bringing her guitar. Then striking the chords of C Major, she sang softly, "Home, Sweet Home." As she sang, Carla watched her through tears.
"An exile from home," the teacher sang; but at that moment she heard a sob. She stopped singing.