A Dear Little Girl at School by Amy Ella Blanchard (free children's ebooks online txt) 📕

the girls will turn their backs on you."

"I didn't say I was going with her all the time, but I don't see why I can't speak to her if I want to."

"Oh, I suppose you can speak, but I shouldn't do much more than that."

Edna made no reply. She had her own ideas of what she meant to do.

"Where is your paper-doll?" asked Dorothy, "I want to show it to Agnes."

"I haven't it with me," returned Edna a little confusedly.

"You had it when we went down to recess. Is it in your desk? Go on and get it, that is a dear. Agnes wants to see it."

"It isn't in my desk. I haven't it," returned Edna bluntly.

"You don't mean to say you have given it away? Edna Conway, you can't have given it to Clara Adams!" Dorothy's voice expressed horror and dismay.

"No, I haven't _given_ it to her; I only lent it to her," replied Edna.

"Well, of all things!" Dorothy was stricken dumb for a moment. Then she put her arms around her friend and hugged her. "You are an angel," she said. "I couldn't have done such a thing to save me, and I don't believe there is another girl in the school who could. I'm going to tell Agnes."

"Oh, please don't," begged Edna.

But Dorothy was off and presently Agnes came over to where the two had been standing. "What did you lend Clara your doll for, Edna?" she asked.

"Because I didn't want to pay a fine," replied she.

Agnes laughed. "That is one way out of it. I suppose the next thing we know you will be proposing that we ask Clara Adams into our club. Half the girls will leave if you do, I can promise you that."

This was something very like a threat, and it had the effect Agnes meant it should, though it did not prevent Edna from making plans of her own concerning Clara. She smiled at her as she took her seat in class the next morning, and for the very first time in all her life she received from Clara a smile in return.


CHAPTER XI


A NEW MEMBER

During this time Miss Newman had not won more than respect from her girls. She was an excellent teacher and kept good order, but she had too severe a manner to call forth affection. Nevertheless she did appreciate any little kindness done her, and was not unwilling to repay when the opportunity came. Dorothy and Edna had always stood up for her, and had brought her the small gifts which children like to take their teachers, a particularly large and rosy apple, a bunch of flowers, a more important present at Christmas and a growing plant at Easter. They did not know much about her home life, for she was not the affable person Miss Ashurst had been. Uncle Justus had told Edna that she lived with an invalid sister in quite a different quarter of the city, and that she had a long way to come to school.

One spring afternoon as Celia and Edna were starting forth, a sudden shower overtook them. They were going home every day now as they had done in the early fall, and were hurrying for their train when they saw Miss Newman just ahead of them without an umbrella. "There's Miss Newman," said Edna to her sister, "and she has no umbrella; I'm going to give her mine and come under yours, Celia," then before Celia could say a word she ran on ahead. "Please take my umbrella, Miss Newman," she said. "I can go under Celia's."

"But you may need it before Monday," said Miss Newman.

"Oh, no, I won't, for I am going straight home. We are to have a club meeting at the Evanses this afternoon, or I should not be in such a hurry."

"And I am in a hurry, too," said Miss Newman, "for I am very anxious to get home to my sister. Thank you very much for the umbrella. I should have had to go in somewhere, it is pouring so, and that would have delayed me."

By this time Celia came up and Edna slipped under her sister's umbrella. They took their car at the next corner, but they saw Miss Newman standing on the other side waiting for the car which should come along somewhat later. "Poor thing," said Edna as she looked from the car window; "she would have been soaked, Celia, if she had had to stand there without an umbrella, and she has a cold now."

Celia smiled. "I believe you would love a chimpanzee, or a snake, Edna."

"I think little green snakes are very pretty," returned Edna calmly. "Cousin Ben likes them, too. He showed me one in the grass last Sunday. I felt sorry for it because nearly everybody hates snakes, and Cousin Ben said this one was perfectly harmless."

"I draw the line at snakes," returned Celia. "I suppose you feel sorry for Miss Newman."

"Yes, I do; she is so unpretty."

Celia laughed. "That is a delicate way of putting it, I am sure. Well, I am glad she has one friend; no doubt she needs it. Most of the girls aren't so ready to say nice things of her as they were of Miss Ashurst."

"I know it," replied Edna, "and that is one reason Dorothy and I stand up for her. We say suppose we were as--as ugly as that, and had to go a long, long way to school every day to teach horrid girls who didn't be nice to us, how would we like it?"

"She looks like a cross old thing," returned Celia rather flippantly.

"She isn't exactly cross, but she isn't the kind you can lean up against and say 'what a pretty tie you have on,' as we did with Miss Ashurst. Celia, I am afraid Miss Newman never will get married."

Celia laughed. "Perhaps she doesn't want to. Everyone doesn't, you know."

This was rather beyond Edna's comprehension, and she sat pondering over the extraordinary statement till the car reached the station. She arrived early in the school-room on Monday morning to find Miss Newman already there. She looked up with a smile as the little girl entered. "I brought back your umbrella," she said. "I don't know what I should have done without it. I left my sister rather worse than usual and I wanted very much to get home as soon as possible."

"Is your sister ill?" asked Edna

"She is never very well. When she was a little girl, younger than you, she fell and hurt her spine. She has never been well since, and at times suffers very much."

"How was she this morning?" asked Edna sympathetically.

"She was much better. I left her sitting on the porch in the sun. She can walk only a few steps, you see, and sometimes has to be lifted from place to place."

"Who lifts her?" Edna was much interested at this peep into Miss Newman's life.

"I do when I am there, for I know just how to do it without hurting her."

"Will she sit there all day where you left her?"

"Oh, no, for she has a wheeling chair and the old woman who lives with us can wheel her in when she is ready to go."

"Tell me some more." Edna leaned her elbows on the table and looked at her teacher with a wistful look. She did feel so very sorry for this poor sister who could not walk.

"She is a very cheerful, bright person," Miss Newman went on, "and everyone loves her. She is very fond of children and is continually doing something for those in the neighborhood. It is far from being a wealthy street, and back of us there are many very poor people. At Christmas we had a tree for the ones who couldn't have one at home, and my sister made nearly everything on it, such pretty things they were, too. There was a present for each child."

"I think that was perfectly lovely," said Edna. This was the kind of thing that appealed to her. "What is your sister's name?"

"Her name is Eloise."

"I think that is a beautiful name. I should like very much to see her."

"She would like very much to see you, for she knows every one of my class, and asks about each one when I go home. You see she cannot go out into the world where I go, I have to take what I can of it to her." It was evident that this was the subject which was nearest to the teacher's heart, and that when talking of it she showed the gentlest side of her nature. "How would you like to go home with me this afternoon to see her, you and Dorothy Evans?"

"I would love to go, but are you sure she would like to have us come?"

"I don't know of anything that would please her more. She has never seen one of my pupils and has often longed to, for as I told you she has to see the world through my eyes, and anything that interests me interests her."

"I'll tell Dorothy as soon as she comes and I will ask Celia if I may go. Thank you, Miss Newman for inviting us." Then a number of girls came in and school was called to order before Edna had a chance to speak to her sister.

At recess, however, the matter was talked over, both Agnes and Celia listening attentively. "I don't think they ought to go home with Miss Newman," decided Agnes, "for she probably has dinner as soon as she gets home and it would make extra trouble. If they could go later it might be all right. I'd better go and talk to Miss Newman myself, then we can tell better what can be done." She went off and soon came back to say that she had arranged to go with the little girls later in the afternoon. "We can take a car from there which will connect with our line and in that way we shall not have to come all the way back into the city."

But a better arrangement than that was made, for when Margaret and Jennie heard of the affair they were so eager to be included in the party, that Miss Newman noticing their wistfulness, asked if they, too, would come. "There is nothing my sister likes better than to have a company of children around her to whom she can tell some tale. She is a great one for that, and often has as many as a dozen children on the porch," she told them.

"Then, I will tell you what we can do," said Jennie. "I know mother will say we may all go in the motor-car, and I can take you girls home just as well as not. I will call mother up now and tell her all about it." So in a few minutes the whole matter was arranged by telephone. The three little girls, Edna, Dorothy and Margaret were to go home with Jennie to luncheon and then they would make the start from there.

"That is just like the Ramseys," said Agnes, "they always come forward at just the right moment and do the thing that makes it pleasantest all around. Now we can go home at the usual time, Celia feeling perfectly safe about the