“So Miss Devereux is the music-teacher, is she? Should you call her a popular teacher?”
“The girls call her”—she seemed moved to mirth by the recollection—“Miss Prim and Prosy.”
“Ugh!” I exclaimed sympathetically. “Tall and hungry-looking, with long talons that pound the keys with grim delight. I know the sort.”
“She’s a sight!“—and my guide laughed approvingly. “But we have to take her; she’s part of the treatment.”
“You speak of St. Agatha’s as though it were a sanatorium.”
“Oh, it’s not so bad! I’ve seen worse.”
“Where do most of the students come from,—all what you call Hoosiers?”
“Oh, no! They’re from all over—Cincinnati, Chicago, Cleveland, Indianapolis.”
“What the magazines call the Middle West.”
“I believe that is so. The bishop addressed us once as the flower of the Middle West, and made us really wish he’d come again.”