It was like a breath of air
from the real world, this hour's chat with a well-bred gentleman. She
wondered how she had done her part--had she been too eager and
school-girlish? Had she met this stately ceremony with enough breeding
to show that she too was somebody? She pounced upon Miss Smith the
minute that lady entered the office.
"Miss Smith, who do you think has been here?" she burst out
enthusiastically.
"I saw him on the lawn." There was a suspicious lack of warmth in this
brief affirmation.
"He was so gracious and kindly, and he knows my brother. And oh, Miss
Smith! we've got to send that Zora right away."
"Indeed"--the observation was not even interrogatory. The preceptress of
the struggling school for Negro children merely evinced patience for the
younger woman's fervency.
"Yes; he says she's utterly depraved."
"Said that, did he?" Miss Smith watched her with tranquil regard. Miss
Taylor paused.
"Of course, we cannot think of keeping her."
Miss Smith pursed her lips, offering her first expression of opinion.
"I guess we'll worry along with her a little while anyhow," she said.
The girl stared at Miss Smith in honest, if unpardonable, amazement.
"Do you mean to say that you are going to keep in this school a girl who
not only lies and steals but is positively--_immoral_?"
Miss Smith smiled, wholly unmoved.
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