By this time the whole school had gathered around her, asking questions forty to the minute.
Mrs. Vincent looked like a fly-away girl herself in her sympathetic excitement, for her soft, curly chestnut hair had somewhat escaped its combs and pins, and her cheeks were as rosy as the girls. Mrs. Vincent was only forty, and now looked about half her age.
Polly and Peggy crowded close to her, Natalie shared her arms with Rosalie, quiet, undemonstrative Marjorie's face glowed with affection, while even Juno condescended to unbend, and Lily Pearl and Helen gave vent to their emotions by embracing each other. Stella, tall, stately and such a contrast to the others, beamed upon the group.
But Isabel put the finishing stroke by remarking with, a most superior smile:
"O Mrs. Vincent, what a perfect darling you are! Don't you perfectly dote on her girls? I fell in love with her years ago when I first met her and I've simply worshiped at her shrine ever since."
"Rats!" broke out Rosalie, and Mrs. Vincent had just about all she could manage for a moment. Her emotions were sadly at odds. Polly's laugh saved the day and deflected Isabel's scorn.
"I really do not see what is amusing you, Miss Howland; I am sure I am only expressing the sentiments of my better poised schoolmates."
"Oh, we all agree with you—every single one of us—though we are choosing different ways of showing it, you see. If Peggy and I had been down home we'd probably have given the Four-N yell. That's our way of expressing our approbation. The boys taught us, and we think its a pretty good way. It works off a whole lot of pent-up steam."
"What is it, Polly?" asked Mrs. Vincent.
"I'm afraid you would have to hear the boys give it to quite understand it, Mrs. Vincent, but I tell you it makes one tingle right down to one's very toes—that yell!"