A sound of stiffled sobbing reached her ear. Turning, she saw a little girl curled up in one of the low window sills, an open book on her lap. Rebecca Gratz hurried to her and slipped a comforting arm about the shaking shoulders.
"Tell me what is the matter?" she whispered.
The child raised a wet face. "Oh, it's you, Miss Gratz," she exclaimed. "I know I'm just as silly, but I can't help it. I came to the sad part of the book where they want to burn 'Rebecca' for a witch and I just couldn't help crying. Though I know it's going to come out all right in the end," she added, wiping her eyes, "'cause story books always do."
"Yes, story books do, even if real people's stories don't always end happily," agreed Miss Gratz, sitting beside her. "Do you like the book, Helen?"
"Ever so much, Miss Gratz. Miss Cohen, my teacher, lent it to me. And what do you suppose she said?" She hesitated a moment, then, encouraged by the kind eyes looking down into hers, added bashfully: "Miss Cohen said, 'You ought to enjoy 'Ivanhoe,' Helen, because a great many people think the character of Rebecca was taken from our Miss Gratz.' Is that really true?" she ended, shyly.
Miss Gratz laughed as gayly as a child. "I mustn't tell," she teased. "Only it doesn't seem likely, does it? The Rebecca in the story wears pearls and veils every day and is imprisoned in a dungeon and goes to the tournament. While I am just a plain old lady in a bonnet and shawl and never do anything more exciting than visit your Hebrew classes. So it's not likely Rebecca in the story and I are the same person, is it?"
Helen considered a moment, her eyes fastened upon Miss Gratz's face. When she spoke it was in a tone of deep conviction. "Maybe Miss Cohen wasn't exactly right," she admitted, "but even if you're not a real princess, and all that, you're just as sweet and good as Rebecca in the story book, anyhow."