CHAPTER XXXIX
BETTY drew a deep sigh. She hadn’t dreamed she would ever feel eager again. Indeed, she had vaguely expected to go through the remainder of her years burdened with the sense of Rose’s terrible despair and with that awful conviction of sin that had come upon her with the reading of the newspaper disclosures. Now, she could scarcely wait to hear what he had to say. But as she looked up eagerly she saw that though Mr. Meadowcroft’s eyes shone, his face looked worn and very white.
“But, Mr. Meadowcroft, you’re tired,” she said gently. “I’ll go home and think of all the comforting things you have said and come back to-morrow.”
“No, indeed, Miss Pogany, you’ll do no such thing,” he declared. “We’ll both forget our weariness and sleep all the better. Try Tommy’s stunt and find a comfortable chair—curl up there in the corner of the sofa, and the minute you look comfortable enough to make me feel at ease, I’ll begin—not a second before.”
It would have been difficult to get fairly into the corner of that deep, high-backed cushioned sofa without feeling comfortable, and when Betty dropped her head back in weary content and smiled her readiness, Meadowcroft related what he had to say.
“I went back to finish what I had begun to look up at New Year’s. You see, I felt troubled all through the autumn to feel that Rose wasn’t taking all the studiesof her class—that she was omitting algebra and next year would omit geometry and so on. I came to the conclusion that there must be some method by which the blind learn mathematics, so as soon as I got a chance I went to a special school for the blind to find out. As a matter of fact, it’s not so difficult and I rather think I can start her towards algebra right away. I’ll show you the apparatus when Herbie has unpacked my things. It’s a shallow box that looks like diminutive pigeon holes and metal counters like the type you see in a printing office. You reckon, compute, and perform the various mathematical operations by manipulating these counters in the tiny squares. I hope to have Rose so expert in figuring with it that she will be ready to take up algebra in the fall.”
He paused and gazed at Betty with a look on his face she didn’t understand. As a matter of fact, it came to him as he spoke that now was the moment to lay the specter of those unpleasant three weeks at school. Since the experience couldn’t readily be forgotten, he was determined that it shouldn’t rankle.
“I wonder how you would feel in regard to my ability to carry this through, Betty?” he asked quizzically. “From your experience, do you think I might be fairly thorough and successful as a special teacher?”
It hurt, as he knew it must; but it helped also. Betty smiled tremulously.
“Very thorough, but—very good and lots more patient than you ought to be,” she declared.
“Would you advise my getting Tommy’s opinion?” he asked anxiously; and then Betty had to laugh. And thereafter it all seemed simple and natural and—different.For they hadn’t laughed together before since the New Year.
“Well, that isn’t all. There’s more yet,” he went on. “It seems that there are all sorts of books, including school books, printed so that they can be read through the tips of the fingers. I knew vaguely, of course, that there were books, but I didn’t somehow guess that they would have text-books. Those I knew about were like ours, only the letters were raised; but now there’s something else—a system called Braille, after its founder, a Frenchman, which is an alphabet made up of combinations of pin points. There are any number of text-books in this Braille type, reference books, standard histories and the like, and a very good selection of general literature. I have engaged one of the teachers at the school I visited to come here to spend the summer to teach Rose, and incidentally you and me, to read in that language. We’ll have lessons here every morning in the billiard-room or garden and in the afternoon the lady, Miss Bingham, will give Rose all sorts of other instruction—sewing and knitting and playing cards—and will help her with her music.”
Betty’s face was eloquent with the surprise and delight she couldn’t express. Meadowcroft recollected his meditation concerning the Indian cast of her features and smiled within himself.
“It sounds like magic!” the girl cried. And that reminding her of Tommy, she declared she thought he’d like to learn, too.
“Tommy will be very welcome, and I meant to give him a chance,” he said. “Only as he’ll only just be getting back to his own particular magic again when MissBingham arrives, it’s likely that he won’t be tempted. I knew you would want to learn, too; and if I didn’t want to learn it myself for the sake of helping Rose through the high school, I should be very glad to be able to read in bed on wakeful nights without lighting up. Rose can teach her mother, too, if Mrs. Harrow feels like learning.”
“It is so wonderful that I don’t know what to say!” cried Betty. “And—there’s June to look forward to after all!”
Meadowcroft smiled. “We’ll have to have a jolly summer whether we wish it or not,” he declared. “If I remain in South Paulding, my sister will make me promise to do all sorts of things for my health. And of course, taking Miss Bingham away from her holidays, we’ve got to make it up to her and give her as much enjoyment as we can. By the way—” he smiled—“she is expecting rather a marvel in you, Betty.”
“In me! In Rose, you mean.”
“Not at all. I told her about Rose and of her mother’s methods and how you suddenly stepped in, picked up Rose, put her on her feet and kept her there. I had always thought myself, you know, that it was mighty decent of you, as Tommy would say; but you should have heard her rave about it. You really have a lot before you, Betty Pogany, to live up to her expectations.”
He rang for the carriage.
But praise was the last thing Betty Pogany wanted. She had craved pardon and she would have accepted any amount of reproach or undertaken any penalty.
“But didn’t you tell her how you started it, Mr.Meadowcroft?” she protested. “I never should have dreamed of doing it if you hadn’t put it into my head! It really wasn’t me at all.”
“I’ll tell you what I did. I assigned the credit where it was due,” he said cryptically.
As he bade her good-night, he was struck anew by the almost tragic alteration in the girl.
“Dear me, Betty, I wish there were something I could do for you—for your very own self. Isn’t there something particularly jolly you could do these last two days of your holidays to make you forget the burdens you have been carrying and turn you back into a little girl again?”
“O, I don’t need anything more! I’m longing to tell Rose and then we’ll both be looking forward to the summer!” she cried. “And I feel sure Tommy’ll come, too, and that will make it perfect.”
Her eyes fell. As she raised them, the girl smiled wanly. Generous to a fault, he saw that she endeavored to fall in with his beginning.
“I’ll tell Tommy it will be the Latin Composition class only with another teacher and you on the bench with us three,” she said as lightly as she could.
“No benches for us!” he exclaimed. “Settees in the garden and sofas and stuffed chairs in the billiard-room. I got globes and raised maps and impedimenta of all sorts and we’ll have a fine study up there on the top floor.”