Zelda became daily more conscious of her father’s penurious ways, that were always cropping out in the petty details of the housekeeping. One evening when he thought himself unobserved, she saw him walking down the front stairway, avoiding the carpet on the treads with difficult care. Zelda did not at first know what he was doing; but she soon found this to be only one of his many whimsical economies. He overhauled the pantry now and then, making an inventory of the amount of flour, sugar and coffee in stock, and he still did a part of the marketing. Zelda had given the black stable-boy orders that Zan was to be fed generously; and when she found that her father was giving contrary directions she said nothing, but connived with the boy in the purchase of hay and corn to make good the deficiency caused by her indulgence.
Late one afternoon she drove to a remote quarter of town in pursuit of a laundress that had failed her. She concluded her errand and turned Zan homeward, but lost her way in seeking to avoid a railway track on which a line of freight cars blocked her path. She came upon a public school building, which presented a stubborn front to a line of shops and saloons on the opposite side of a narrow street. Two boys were engaged in combat on the sidewalk at the school-house entrance, surrounded by a ring of noisy partizans. A young woman, a teacher, Zelda took her to be, hurried toward the scene of trouble from the school-house door, and at her approach the ring of spectators dispersed in disorder, leaving the combatants alone, vainly sparring for an advantage before they, too, yielded the field. Zelda unconsciously drew in her horse to watch the conclusion of matters. The young woman stepped between the antagonists without parley, catching the grimy fists of one of the boys in her hands, while the other took to his heels amid the jeers of the gallery. Zelda heard the teacher’s voice raised in sharp reprimand as she dismissed the lad with a wave of her hand that implied an authority not to be gainsaid.
“Pardon me—” Zelda brought her horse to the curb—“but I’ve lost my way. Can you tell me—”
The young teacher paused.
“Please don’t come back—” began Zelda.
The girl stepped to the curb and described the easiest way across town. She was small and trim of figure and had very blue eyes.
“Thank you,” said Zelda, and Zan started forward.
“You are Miss Dameron,” the teacher said hesitatingly.
“Yes.” Zelda turned toward her in surprise.
“It’s been a long time since I saw you,—as many as a dozen years.” The girl smiled and Zelda smiled, too.