When Mary had told the tale of Rosalie’s trouble, Sister burst into her jolly laugh.
“The poor little thing! Was it afraid for its nice little fat brown body,” she said tenderly, and taking Rosalie on her knee rolled up the child’s cotton sleeves, looked at the plump pale arms, and pinched the soft neck.
“Let me catch any old mollmeit trying to eat my Rosalie!” she said fondly. “Run along, Mary, and ring the bell. Get lessons over early. Tell the children I am letting them off an hour earlier so that they may have time to curl their hair for to-night.” She laughed merrily at her own little jest, well knowing that hair curling is an unnecessary item in a coloured child’s toilette. She was always full of merry little jokes of this kind, and the natives being a laughter-loving lot rejoiced in them as much as she did.
Mary hurried away leaving Rosalie sitting happily on the old woman’s knees, and did not see her again until during the afternoon Sister carried her into the schoolroom fast asleep.
“Oh, Sister! How can you carry that great fat thing! You’ll be tired out before to-night,” said Mary reproachfully, for she thought Sister looked even paler than usual. And sure enough that night the old lady was too tired to eat any supper before starting for the entertainment. She looked as haggard as death, though her sky-blue eyes were brighter than ever and full of excitement; but the beautifully broiled mutton chop Mary had prepared, with potatoes baked in their skins lay on her plate untouched. Even when Mary made a cup of foamy coffee according to Sister’s own famous receipt it was wasted. Mary, in all the months she had been at the cottage, had never known Sister with anything but an excellent appetite, and was troubled, and before leaving for the school she cut the meat from the uneaten chop and made it into a sandwich, while the potatoes she sliced into a nice salad with a tiny onion chopped over it. This little repast she put on a table in Sister’s room. They were simple in their ways at the cottage.
Down at the school, the children were buzzing like bees outside the closed door, while Sister and the pupil-teachers within put the final touches to the magic-lantern arrangements. Mary fished Rosalie out of the crowd, and found that though she was still wearing her torn, school frock, she had been washed, her hair was braided, and she was proudly sporting the coral necklace. She still seemed more than half asleep, but she blinked happily at Mary.
The entertainment was an enormous success. The magic lantern worked like magic indeed, and there were howls of regret when at nine o’clock the last slide was shown. Sister Joanna made an announcement that during holiday week she would give another exhibition for the parents, and the children then danced and partook of the repast of buns and ginger-beer that kind Sister had provided. They were to go home at half-past nine punctually, but before that time Sister who was very tired left Mary in charge and went home.
“I’ll see the children safely off,” Mary promised.
“Oh, the children will be all right,” said Sister. “It’s my lantern and slides I’m thinking about;—pack them safely and put them away in the cupboard, Mary, or sure enough those rapscallions who come to clean up in the morning will be fiddling with them and break something.”
Mary promised not to leave until everything was locked up safely, and all the lights put out.