So she bent brain, spirit, eyes, hands, lips to the labor of the day. She determined to draw from each of her pupils a quick and eager response. She threw herself into the hour’s performance, and had the profound satisfaction of feeling those minds which a few weeks before had been so aloof, so chilled, so closed, open to her influence as flowers open to the sun.
From time to time more neighbors came and clustered about the windows without, leaning on the sills and listening to the program. Neither Azalea nor Carin paid much attention to these soft comings and goings, these quiet unobtrusive movements of the people without there in the heat of the changing day. There was some fear of rain; Azalea heard the people whispering about it; she herself noted how the light in the room changed from bright sunlight to soft shadow. She hoped, of course, that the rain would hold off; and yet she couldn’t help thinking how charming Keefe would look there on the window ledge, with the silver rain falling between him and the trees; and she remembered that first wonderful day at the Rowantrees, when they all had eaten on the gallery with the rain making a silver curtain between them and the rest of the world.
It was time for the nooning—the famous nooning that was to hold Aunt Zillah’s surprise—and Azalea was just bringing the exercises to an end, when she saw an extraordinary sight. Carin, the proper, the correct, the ladylike, who had been seated on the platform near an open window, was suddenly seen to plunge through the window like the most madcap child in the whole school. Not a sound came from her, but with her bright hair tumbling about her from the violence of her leap to the ground, she was speeding down the path. What was worse and more astonishing, Aunt Zillah, the very mirror of what was decorous, had looked, and was now speeding after her, only she was swung down from the window by the sympathetic Keefe, who apparently had the key to her extraordinary conduct. In spite of the titter of delight that shook the school, Azalea preserved her dignity, but out of the corner of her eye she saw Mr. and Mrs. Carson, and Carin homing to them like a swift dove; and Annie Laurie running with outstretched arms to meet her Aunt Zillah.
Azalea didn’t say even in her inmost heart: “And there’s nobody for me.” She was through with that sort of “grumping” and did not mean ever to give way to it again. Besides, in a day or two she would be driving up the dear familiar road with Pa McBirney, and coming upon the well-loved clearing with the little house that was her home, and listening to Jim’s questions, and feeling Ma McBirney’s kind eyes on her, and then she would go creeping up to her own sweet, odd room in the loft that looked up the mountain side, and she would be happy. Yes, of course she would be happy. That was her life. Every one had his own life. Mary Cecily had hers and Keefe had his, and Carin had hers—
All of this time she was talking, was neatly and cheerfully bringing the exercises to a close, and her well-trained pupils were doing their best to give her their attention and not to let their eyes wander down the road to view the interesting scenes taking place there.
“Miss Pace,” said Azalea clearly, “has a luncheon prepared for you which you are all asked to help prepare in the grove. Everyone is invited—everyone. No one is to go away.”
No one had the slightest intention of going away. What was the use of doing that when already Paralee and Mis’ Cassie and Mis’ Sikes and others of the neighbors who had been pressed into service, were bringing forth platters of sandwiches and cold meat loaf and pickles and salad; and Miles McEvoy was starting a fire among the well-blackened stones of a rude fireplace in the schoolyard, and Mrs. McIntosh was mixing coffee in the huge pot.
“And now,” said Azalea to herself, “it is the moment for me to go and meet my friends.”
She walked out of the schoolroom door quite properly, meaning to remember every step of the way that she was only the schoolteacher, and not Carin with loving parents, nor Aunt Zillah with a devoted niece—but just at her most dignified and self-conscious moment she was caught about the waist by Annie Laurie’s strong arms and lifted entirely off her feet. Yes, right there before her pupils and all the people she had been hoping to impress with her discretion, was swung quite clear of the ground and hugged till she literally heard a little crack in her ribs!
“I suppose you thought I wasn’t coming up here to see how things were going on, didn’t you, you funny little old schoolma’am?” demanded Annie Laurie’s strong bright tones. “Me—as inquisitive as a house cat—not to come nosing! That’s too ridiculous. Well, here I am, anyway!”