Page:St. Nicholas (serial) (IA stnicholasserial321dodg).pdf/192

118 room settled into stillness, except for the solemn tick of the clock and the scratching of Clarabel’s pencil on the slate. There were fractions in the problems, and fractions were always hard for Clarabel. Her pencil stopped often while she frowned at the curly-tailed figures. In one of these pauses the door squeaked open a little way. It squeaked again, and some one sidled into the room; it was Josephine.

“Please may I go to my seat?” she asked.

“Certainly,” said the teacher, and watched her curiously.

She tiptoed to the back seat, fumbled for a few minutes in her desk, then slipped to a seat a few rows farther in front; then to another and another, till she had reached the row in which Clarabel sat.

Clarabel, though she was bending over her slate, had heard every hesitating move, and when the last halt was made she shook her curls back from her eyes, looked around. and dimpled into smiles.

The teacher, watching, waited to see what would happen next. Nothing did, except that the two little girls sat and smiled and smiled and smiled as if they never would stop.

Presently the teacher herself smiled and spoke. She had a very sweet voice sometimes—one that seemed to hint at happy secrets. That was the way it sounded now.

“Would you like to help Clarabel, Josephine?” she asked. “You may if you wish to.”

“If she ‘ll let me,” answered Josephine, her eyes fixed on Clarabel’s face.

“I would love to have her,” said Clarabel, her eyes on Josephine, And instantly the one narrow seat became large enough for two.

For ten minntes more there was great scratching of slate-pencils and much whispering and some giggling. Then with cheerful clatter the slate was borne to the platform. ‘The teacher looked at the little girls more than at the examples. “I’m sure they ‘re right,” she said. “Now, off to your homes—both of you!”

“Good night,” said Clarabel.

“Good night,” said Josephine.

“Good night, dear little girls,” said the teacher.

There was a soft swish of dresses and the children had reached the dressing-room. Within its familiar narrowness, Josephine hesitated and fingered her cloak-buttons.

“I think your Aunt Bessie”—it was very slow speech for Josephine—“‘is ever so nice and knows a lot.”

“Qh!” bubbled Clarabel, joyously, “I do love the color of your mittens! Don’t you—don’t you”—she finished with a rush—“want to let me wear them home and you wear my gloves?”

Josephine put aside the dazzling offer.

“Your gloves are prettier and you ought to wear them.”

Clarabel thought a minute, a shadow in her eyes.

“I know what,” she declared, the shadow vanishing. “You wear one glove and mitten and I ’ll wear the other glove and mitten!”

“Oh!” said Josephine, with a rapturous hug, “that will be splendid!”

And thus they scampered home, the two mittened hands holding each other tight, while the two gloved hands were gaily waved high in the air with each fresh outburst of laughter.