It was Fräulein Pfaff.
Miriam who had as yet hardly spoken to her, did not know whether to stand or to remain seated. She half rose and then Fräulein Pfaff took the chair near her and Miriam sat down, stiff with fear. She could not remember the name of the thing she was making. She flushed and fumbled—thought of dressing-tables and the little objects of which she had made so many hanging to the mirror by ribbons; “toilet-tidies” haunted her—but that was not it—she smoothed out her work as if to show it to Fräulein—“Na, na,” came the delicate caustic voice. “Was wird das wohl sein?” Then she remembered. “It’s for a pin-cushion,” she said. Surely she need not venture on German with Fräulein yet.
“Ein Nadelkissen,” corrected Fräulein, “das wird niedlich aussehen,” she remarked quietly, and then in English, “You like music, Miss Henderson?”
“Oh, yes,” said Miriam, with a pounce in her voice.
“You play the piano?”
“A little.”
“You must keep up your practice then, while you are with us—you must have time for practice.”
11
Fräulein Pfaff rose and moved away. The girls were arranging the chairs in two rows—plates and cups were collected and carried away. It dawned on Miriam that they were going to have prayers. What a wet-blanket on her evening. Everything had been so bright and exciting so far. Obviously they had prayers every night. She felt exceedingly uncomfortable. She had never seen prayers in a sitting-room. It had been nothing at school—all the girls standing in the drill-room, rows of voices saying “adsum,” then a Collect and the Lord’s Prayer.
A huge Bible appeared on a table in front of Fräulein’s high-backed chair. Miriam found herself ranged with the girls, sitting in an attentive hush. There was a quiet, slow turning of pages, and then a long indrawn sigh and Fräulein’s clear, low, even voice, very gentle, not caustic now but with something child-like about it, “Und da kamen die Apostel zu Ihm....” Miriam had a moment of revolt. She would not sit there and let a woman read the Bible at her ... and in that “smarmy” way.... In spirit she rose and marched out of the room. As the English pupil-teacher bound to suffer all things or go home, she sat on. Presently her ear was charmed by Fräulein’s slow clear enunciation, her pure unaspirated North German. It seemed to suit the narrative—and the narrative was new, vivid and real in this new tongue. She saw presently the little group of figures talking by the lake and was sorry when Fräulein’s voice ceased.