The place was but an alcove, opening into the lower form class-room, but isolated from it sufficiently that what went on within between teacher and pupil could not be overheard. A very haven of comfort for Jessica, had she been really as stupid as she felt; and one that soon became to her the very dearest spot in all the great building. In reality, she was now so eager to learn that she could have “tackled,” as she called it, every branch of study represented in the institution at once and altogether. But Miss Montaigne would have none of this.
“Madame has been a most successful instructor and she allows no overcrowding. Two studies at a time, with an ‘accomplishment’ is her rule. We are to take up arithmetic and spelling first. With music, or art, or what your taste decides. Now, we’ll begin. This sum in addition, if you please;” and the teacher pointed to the very simplest possible.
Jessica glanced at it in contempt.
“That? Why that’s far easier than making out the ‘boys’ wage-list. You must be teasing me!”
“No, indeed. Beginning at the root of things. That’s all. You may climb and grow as fast as Jack’s bean-stalk if you wish. I’ll help push!”
Why, what a delightful person this Miss Montaigne was! Almost as good as another girl to talk with, and how like a game she made that “hated” arithmetic seem. It was a game. Played so swiftly and eagerly between these two that before either noticed how the time was passing the recess hour was struck and—such a babel of happy voices as followed it.
Desks were deserted, mates sought mates, Aubrey alone mourned sorrowful in her corner, though Natalie rushed into the alcove and whirled Jessica out of it, disputing with somebody across the room:
“You’re a mean, hateful girl! It is no such thing! She isn’t! She’s a dear! Aren’t you, Jessica Trent?”
Jessica returned the ardent hug she received with another as fond, then holding Natalie off demanded:
“Who are you quarreling with? What did she say?”