Zora thought that it was; but she was wondering just what spectacles had to do with the complaint she had brought to the office from Miss Taylor.
"I'm always losing my glasses and they get dirty and—Oh, dear! now where is that paper?"
Zora pointed silently to the complaint.
"No, not that—another paper. It must be in my room. Don't you want to come up and help me look?"
They went up to the clean, bare room, with its white iron bed, its cool, spotless shades and shining windows. Zora walked about softly and looked, while Miss Smith quietly searched on desk and bureau, paying no attention to the girl. For the time being she was silent.
"I sometimes wish," she began at length, "I had a bright-eyed girl like you to help me find and place things."
Zora made no comment.
"Sometimes Bles helps me," added Miss Smith, guilefully.
Zora looked sharply at her. "Could I help?" she asked, almost timidly.
"Why, I don't know,"—the answer was deliberate. "There are one or two little things perhaps—"