As they emerged from the dark cañon road into the full sunlight beyond the great old pines they beheld for the first time their new teacher. They knew at once that it must be she, and Ken snatched off his cap, while little Carolina, slipping from the back of the burro, made a graceful curtsy, just as her mother had trained her to do from babyhood. Dixie, too, had been trained, but she was a Martin, and did not take to polishing as readily as did Carol.
The new teacher hurried forward with hands outstretched. She actually forgot to examine the stones in the road that might be coiled snakes.
“Oh, you dear little pupils of mine!” she exclaimed. “You are the four Martins, aren’t you?”
“Yes, ma’am, we are,” was the chorused reply; and then it was that Miss Bayley recalled that even the best people in the South say “ma’am.”
Carolina, wishing to shine, stepped forward and said: “I’ll introduce us, shall I? This is my big sister, Dixie Martin, and our baby brother, Jimmy-Boy.” Then the small girl held herself proudly, as the mother had done, as she added, “His real name is James Haddington-Allen Martin, after our aunt who is blue-blooded in the South.”
There was a sudden flush in the freckled face of the older girl, and she hastened to say apologetically: “Miss Bayley, please pardon my little sister for saying that. I’ve told her time and again that when folks are truly blue-blooded it shows without their telling it.” Then she added, as she nodded toward the boy who stood waiting his turn, “This is our big brother, Ken, and I guess that’s all the introducing, unless Pegasus ought to be mentioned.”
“Pegasus?” the new teacher repeated as she gazed at the stolid little burro and marveled. “Pray, what do you kiddies know about Pegasus?” Even as she spoke she realized that much that was unusual might be expected from the children of Ophelia.
It was Dixie who said eagerly, “Oh, our beautiful mother wrote the loveliest poetry, and she used to say that the wonderful winged horse, Pegasus, carried her to the Land of Inspiration.”
Miss Bayley noticed that the small goat had not been introduced. Ken, believing that the moment for the presentation was at hand, took the leading-rope from his sister, and, stepping forward, he said, almost shyly: “Miss Bayley, teacher, we fetched along Star-White as your present. We thought maybe you’d like him for a pet.”
It had been said of Miss Josephine Bayley that she could rise to any occasion without evidencing surprise or dismay, and she surely did at this moment. Luckily, her practice-work on the East Side in New York had taught her to expect the most extraordinary gifts from her pupils.