ZULA'S FRIEND.
Neither Mr. Platts nor his wife had the remotest idea of giving Zula a
permanent home, but there seemed nothing else to do but to let her
remain, and as the days wore on, she seemed to be almost necessary to
their household. She was ready to help in numerous ways and never
expressed the least dissatisfaction when called upon to perform any
duty, and to Mary's comfort she seemed quite indispensable. Mr. Platts
had remarked to his wife that it seemed a pity that Zula was growing
up without at least a common education, and so after talking the
matter over they decided to send her to school. She possessed a very
strange nature; a strong will and a somewhat passionate temper, that
had been tortured beyond the limits of saintly endurance; and though
she was deeply affectionate, she was as strong to hate. The treatment
which she had received had served to augment the fire of an already
hasty temperament, and, never having received a kind word, it is not
surprising that she hardly knew what love meant until she became an
inmate of Mr. Platts' home. As she looked each day on the still
handsome faces of her kind friends, she thought that, were it asked
of her, she could give her life for their happiness. She was delighted
when the plan of sending her to school was made known to her for, to
use her own expression, "she could be like other girls," and she
really longed to know what school life was. She could forget neither a
favor nor an injury, and it was not surprising that the children with
whom she came in contact should often say that she was "a spunky
little thing."
"Don't you think," said one of her schoolmates to another, "that Zula
is a mean little thing?"
"Oh, I don't know," answered the other. "What makes you think so?"
"Because she said the other day that she would slap my face."
"What made her say that?"
"Why, just because I called her a little gypsy. I don't care, now she
does look just like one, doesn't she?"
"Why, she has got black hair and black eyes, but lots of people have
black hair and eyes who are not gypsies. I don't believe gypsies ever
have such beautiful shaped hands and fingers as she has."
"But she has a black face, too."
"Oh, no, her face isn't black; it's dark and so is your sister
Cora's."
"Oh, look, there comes a band of gypsies; now just look how dirty some
of them look, and what loads of beads they have in their baskets. I
wish we had some, don't you?"
At that moment Zula had reached the spot where the girls were
standing.
"Dasn't you go and ask them gypsies for some beads?" said the first
speaker to Zula.
"No, I don't like beads," said Zula, hurrying on, and springing
lightly into the doorway. Her face was pale and her heart beat quick
and hard. She hurried up the stairway, which was well crowded with
pupils, and gave a sigh of relief as she reached the top.
"What is the matter?" a teacher asked, who stood near. "Are you ill?"
"I had a pain in my side when I ran up stairs," replied Zula.
She had seen Crisp and she knew that should he discover that she was
there hope was lost.
"Oh, before I would be such a little coward, oh, ho! Afraid of a band
of gypsies!" said a rude boy.
"I ain't afraid," said Zula, with flashing eyes.
"Oh, but they do say, though, that they will steal little boys and
girls and take them away off," said another.
"They won't take her though," broke in a third party, "she looks so
much like one; they'd rather have little white ones."
"Hush," said the teacher, as Zula stepped forward and raised her hand
as if to strike the offender, "stop this quarreling at once."
Zula dropped her hand and turned quickly away. Her first impulse had
been to strike the boy who had insulted her so, but her better nature
prevailed and instead of angry words tears were called forth. The
teacher after sternly rebuking the boy turned to Zula, saying:
"I am glad you did not give way to your passion. It was very good and
brave of you."
She looked out of the schoolroom window and saw the gypsy band turn
down the road, which she knew they would take in their route from the
city, for it was now about the latter part of September. She knew they
had delayed starting out in the hope of finding her, but she concluded
that they had given up the search. How her heart leaped as she saw
Crisp moving away. He was her brother, but she could not remember one
kind word he had ever spoken to her. She could not remember one kind
act from her mother--not even one look. She wondered why it was that
they seemed to hate her very presence and she sincerely hoped that she
had looked on them for the last time. She was but a child, but she had
experienced a woman's heartaches. Only eleven summers had passed over
her head, and yet she had seen no childhood. She was brave and
ambitious, which traits were more essential than self-esteem, so that
if she did sometimes get discouraged, and think she was the dullest
person in the whole school, others looked on and admired the work she
finally wrought. It was perhaps quite as well that she was ignorant of
her own ability, for she had never possessed the opportunity to gain
the first rudiments of a school education, and it was remarkable how
rapidly she advanced. Had she known her capacity for devouring
knowledge she might have been less eager to make up for lost time. The
idea that there were any idle moments to be spent in the schoolroom
never presented itself to her mind. Thus her time was well improved.