“I shall,” Miss Gordon replied.
Joy was in the heart of the island girl when she heard this wonderful news.
“Oh, I’m that glad, Miss Gordon,” she exclaimed the following evening when, just after dinner, she was summoned to the attractive little apartment in a remote wing of the school to which the principal retired when the tasks of the day were over.
The larger of the two rooms was a library and study in which there was a wide fireplace, and on either side long, vine-hung windows that overlooked the Hudson. Low shelves circled the walls and they were filled with book-friends, actually read and loved by their owner. Here and there were soft-toned copies of famous paintings and a few charming originals in water color. Too, there were ferns growing in the wicker window-boxes and a blossoming plant on a low wicker stand. The comfortable, inviting chairs of the same weave were cushioned with soft hues and a shade on the reading lamp harmonized. The little room just beyond, in which Miss Gordon slept, had disappearing windows on all sides, and at night, when these were opened, only the screens sheltered her from the out-of-doors she so loved. As the principal had prophesied, Muriel, in this congenial atmosphere, blossomed not only rapidly but also beautifully. No one but Faith guessed how her friend was advancing and she did not have to guess. She knew.
Miss Gordon had sent for Faith on the very day that Miss Humphrey had visited the office, and together they had divided the work and the joy of assisting Muriel.
In the beginning the principal had merely planned asking Faith’s advice; it had not been her desire to burden the girl, but at once Faith had said: “Oh, Miss Gordon, I have not told you that for the past two weeks I have been instructing Muriel in penmanship and also in reading and spelling. It is a great pleasure to me to aid her, and if you are willing I shall continue our little class.”
The principal’s sweet face brightened. “Thank you, Faith. If you will tutor Muriel in the fundamentals, I will gladly instruct her in the higher branches.”
Then she added, and there was a twinkle in the sweet grey-blue eyes: “Miss Humphrey would never be able to understand it, but I actually enjoy reading poetry to that island girl. She sits on a low stool at my feet and with those liquid hazel eyes she drinks into her very soul the beauty of the thought and the music of the rhythm.”
“Miss Gordon,” Faith said, “don’t let us tell anyone of Muriel’s progress. Let’s keep it a secret until the midwinter term. I would like to surprise Miss Humphrey—and—and others.” Faith was thinking of Marianne, whom she knew wished to humiliate Muriel.