“Now, dear,” Miss Bayley smiled down at her, “let’s go over to the book department. I want to get a more modern arithmetic than the one that I found in the school.” While the young teacher was examining mathematical books, Dixie, with a little half-suppressed cry of joy, skipped toward a table spread with attractively-covered juveniles, and so absorbed was she a moment later that Miss Bayley found the opportunity she desired to slip back to the silk counter and order a pattern of the pale-green that in one light shimmered like silver.
Had Dixie noticed the shape of the package that the teacher carried when they left the store, she might have thought it rather soft and bulky for a book about mathematics, but there were so many things to see and admire that she noticed it not at all.
It was noon, and to the little girl from the mountains the main street of the village seemed thronged. Again she clung to her teacher’s hand as they made their way toward the café, over which hung the most alluring sign.
“Oh, teacher, Miss Bayley, are we going in here?” It was hard for the child to believe that she was actually going to have lunch in a place so sparkling with mirrors and lights.
But it was really true, for Miss Bayley was leading her to a little table in one corner that was just for two.
Then when the orders had been given, the small girl, wide-eyed, looked all about her. “There’s going to be music,” she whispered. “It’s over behind those plants.” She had seen two violinists in a palm-sheltered corner, and even as she spoke the first sweet strain was heard. Miss Bayley watched the sensitive, expressive face of the little girl and wondered how any one could call her homely.
It was the first time Dixie had ever heard the music of a violin, and when the last note had died away she lifted eyes that looked as though they had seen a vision. “Miss Bayley,” she said, “some time I want to play like that.”
And just then the teacher, looking ahead through the years, seemed to see a beautiful, willowy young girl dressed in soft, shimmering green, with red-gold hair glowing beneath the lights, playing a violin, while a vast multitude of people listened breathlessly. Was it a prophecy?
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
DIXIE VISITS A FRIEND
They were again on the street, and the noon throng had vanished. As it was still too early for the afternoon shoppers to arrive, the town seemed to be taking a midday siesta. Dixie wondered where they were going, but said nothing until they turned a corner, when she uttered an exclamation of joy. “Oh, teacher, Miss Bayley,” she exclaimed. “There’s the bank. How I’d perfectly love to go in and see kind Mr. Clayburn.” Then, looking up anxiously. “Would it ’sturb him too much, do you suppose?”