“Ah! then,” he replied, “all good fortune will attend me. If one so young and guileless prays for poor me, the gods will not forget me. Adieu!”
“Adieu!”
Miss Morgan entered softly when the physician went away. She was Beebee’s English teacher. Beebee flew to meet her, and told her all the doctor had said.
“It is what he likewise told me,” said Miss Morgan, “and your studies are to be interrupted for a time. Your teacher of Sanscrit shall come no more for months. You will have a long holiday, and I am to read you books that will amuse instead of instructing you.”
“And I am to have a chamber in the turret?”
“Yes, dear, it is already being draped.”
“Oh! now indeed I begin to feel well and happy.”
And in the exuberance of her joy Beebee hung around Miss Morgan’s neck and danced up and down like a little child.
It was very pleasant up there in that turret, high above the swaying trees.
Although so high above everything the room was by no means a small one. Like those below, too, it was beautifully draped and tapestried, and the floor was of mosaics, crimson and blue and yellow, while the cushions that surrounded the walls were soft and delightful.