Then Miss Bayley entered the lean-to which was also her kitchen, and humming to herself to endeavor to erase from her memory the unpleasant conflict with Jessica Archer, she filled the tiny teakettle, lighted the oil-stove, and prepared a few dainty sandwiches.
When she re-entered the living-room, her small guest sat on the window-seat, one long, spidery leg curled under her, and she held two books. The gold-brown eyes seemed to have sunshine in their depths as they looked up.
“Oh, teacher, Miss Bayley,” she piped, “it was so hard to choose. It’s like when the spring flowers are in blossom and the valley-meadow is all blue and gold with them. There are so many, and they are all so lovely it’s hard to tell which ones to pick. I guess, though, that these two would be nice. This one says ‘Little Women’ on the cover, but that wouldn’t interest Ken so much, it being all about girls, but this one would, for, in the picture, there is a boat wrecked and animals swimming to the shore. I’m sure boys would like it.”
Miss Bayley nodded, beaming her pleasure. “You will like that one, too. My brother, Tim, and I read ‘Swiss Family Robinson’ through seven times when we were your age and Ken’s.”
Skipping over to the long, home-made bookshelf, the child replaced “Little Women,” and held lovingly the volume of her choice.
Then a cheerful humming in the kitchen announced that the teakettle was beginning to boil, and Miss Bayley went thither to complete preparations for the lunch.
While they were eating it, the young woman, who was little more than a girl herself, having graduated from a normal school when she was hardly twenty years of age,—and this was her first school,—smiled across at her small guest as she said: “Dearie, at recess you wanted to tell me something. What was it?”
“I’m going to tell you all about us, Miss Bayley.”
Dixie’s thin, freckled face became suddenly serious. “I’m going to tell you all about us, Miss Bayley,” she began, “then I guess you’ll better understand.”