“Thank you, thank you. Ah—is there anything wrong, Miss Turner?”
“Wrong?” asked the teacher in surprised tones. “Why, no, sir.”
“Oh! I see! I thought—” He viewed the expectant faces about him rather bewilderedly. “Thank you, Miss Turner. Hm!”
He went on, the students crowding along the corridor behind him, and fitted the key to the lock. The throng hid the old furniture pushed against the wall beyond the door and he caught no glimpse of it. In fact, he scarcely looked that way, for he was oddly embarrassed and wanted nothing but to put his portal between him and the sea of strangely staring faces. He turned the key and the knob and quickly pushed the door open; and as quickly stepped inside. And then, as though he had collided with an invisible wall, he suddenly stood stock-still. There was an expectant hush, broken at length by a nervous giggle from some one of the girls. Those near the office door saw the Principal’s head move as his eyes swept the room. Then, his hand still on the knob, he turned, plainly bewildered, as though he suspected himself of being out of his mind, and gazed helplessly and troubledly into the eager and excited faces of the watchers.
“I—I don’t understand—” he faltered.
But realization came to him the next instant, for the students, no longer able to stand the suspense, broke into applause. A wave of sound swept the corridor; the clapping of hands, shouts, laughter mingled in a confused babel, through which came the piping cry of a small freshman:
“Happy birthday, sir!”
Mr. Grayson retreated before the outbreak, amazement, relief, embarrassment struggling for mastery. Uncertainly he laid his hat and gloves on the desk, and in the act caught sight of the card. He picked it up and read the inscription. It seemed to take him a long time. Perhaps he couldn’t see very well, for he removed his glasses, drew the silk handkerchief from a pocket and began to rub the lenses furiously. Then, pausing in that, he took up the card once more and walked to the door and through it to the corridor, the throng giving way before him and the tumult increasing as those at the far end of the corridor caught sight of him. But gradually the noise ceased, and Mr. Grayson, clearing his throat nervously, began to speak.
“Young ladies and gentlemen,” he said haltingly, “I—this—” He stopped helplessly and shook his head. “I’m too surprised to—to say what I’d like to. I never guessed that—” He paused again, but what it was he had never guessed they all understood. “I thank you from the bottom of my heart. Not only for the—the wonderful gifts, but for the kindness, the—the dearness, if I may say it, of your action. It—it has affected me. That’s why you must pardon me if I don’t express myself better. I can’t find the words just now. I’m—I’m in a daze, I think! Later, after I have had time to—to look at all the beautiful things in there and to properly appreciate what you have done I will try to thank you as I should. All I can say now is that”—a smile softened the grave lines of his face—“well, that you’ve made this the happiest birthday I’ve ever had!”