“How many teachers does one great big girl need, Aunt Abby?” Thurley said, six weeks after Hobart had told her the little story of the peanut and the banana. “How do they think one brain can remember everything? How do you know Mr. Hobart isn’t going to be disappointed after all? He has never said a word about my voice since that first day, just scales and horrid nasal exercises and that grimy little Bohemian man to take me in tow half the time.... I’m dead tired, that’s the truth—” She flung herself down in characteristic fashion beside Miss Clergy. She wanted some one to ruffle up her hair affectionately or whisper there would be a chestnut party that afternoon near Wood’s Hollow. And here the memory of Dan Birge would steal in, an unwelcome yet paramount personage, so she jumped up and ran over to the window.
“You can’t disappoint me,” Miss Clergy protested. “Mr. Hobart has said you wouldn’t.”
“Really?” Her face flushed. “Why, he’s never mentioned it—”
“It’s a secret,” Miss Clergy added childishly. “Don’t give me away. Most girls have to study for years and go abroad, but Mr. Hobart wants to prove that an American trained girl can be as great a prima donna as one who enters the stage by way of Vienna or Paris. Come back, Thurley, I want to tell you something.” She held out her arms as stiltedly as a marionette.
Thurley obeyed.
“I want you to be happy because you will be both rich and famous. Isn’t that enough?” Her bright eyes peered into Thurley’s face.
“You mean because I’ll keep my vow to you about not marrying—and I ought to be satisfied to have the other things?”
“Maybe so. I’m a queer old woman and I choose to live the rest of my queer old life as I please. But I saved you from the terrible, but common fate—marrying a small-town bully and being a faded drudge. We’ll leave that for the minister’s daughter.”
“But Dan would never marry Lorraine—why—” Thurley paused. She was remembering the day Lorraine had brought her the embroidered set. How very sweet was Betsey Pilrig’s garden, far sweeter than the imported scent they had her use! How lovely and peaceful were the green fields which stretched as far as eye could see ... not tall, dirty buildings with myriads of shaded windows, each concealing some human being with woes and longings greater than her own! How lovely was the old box-car, the first home the girl had known! She had worn pink linen that day Lorraine came! She had paid for it by extra lessons given in South Wales, and Dan had sent her the sash for a surprise. How simple but how sane it all had been! She glanced at her blue velvet frock trimmed with moleskin—“so ultra,” they murmured when they fitted it. Perhaps this was the better way.
Miss Clergy caught the drift of her thoughts and the withered hand closed firmly over Thurley’s. “If he did marry her, you’d be glad to dance at the wedding, wouldn’t you?” she insisted.