At the other side of Ella’s desk sat a little girl in a blue dress with a dainty white apron trimmed with narrow edging. This was Ida. The teacher introduced the two children. Ida said,
“Haven’t you been in the public school before?”
“No,” answered Ella.
“Did you go to a private school?”
“Yes,” Ella replied rather unwillingly, for suddenly, in view of the businesslike ways of the public school, all that she had done before began to seem very childish. “Before that, I went to a seminary.”
“Did you really? I should think that would be splendid. I knew a girl once who went to a seminary, but she was old, as much as sixteen. Are you going to be in the Second Class?”
“Yes. I was here yesterday, and I heard the geography class.”
“After the opening exercises,” said Ida, “the First Class recites in arithmetic, and then ours comes. I’ll show you where the lesson is, and you’ll have time to do the examples before we recite. But you haven’t covered your books yet!”
Ella looked at Ida’s books and saw that every one was neatly covered with light brown paper; and again she felt out of the circle.
“I’ll show you how at recess,” said Ida; and Ella was comforted, for in an hour and a half she would be “in” and like other girls. She noticed that Ida’s name was neatly written on the outside of her light brown covers, and that she had the prettiest capital I that Ella had ever seen. It began like all I’s, then at the line the pen moved away to the left in a handsome little horizontal loop that made quite a different thing of the letter from the common everyday I’s of other people. Ella determined to work till she could make one as good. She wished her name began with an I! Evidently her earthquake handwriting would not do for schoolbooks. Beejay’s older brother wrote beautifully; she would ask him to write on her books, and she would tell him about that handsome letter.