This has been a delightful day. About eleven o'clock a rap came at the
door, and a young lady entered my classroom.
"Jerusalem!" I gasped. "Dorothy! Where did you drop from?"
"I'm motoring to Edinburgh," she explained, "on tour, you know, old
thing!"
Dorothy is an actress in a musical comedy touring company, and she is a
very old friend of mine. She is a delightful child, full of fun and
mischief, yet she can be a most serious lady on occasion.
She looked at my bairns, then she clasped her hands.
"O, Sandy! Fancy you teaching all these kiddies! Won't you teach me,
too?" And she sat down beside Violet Brown. I thanked my stars that I
had never been dignified in that room.
"Dorothy," I said severely, "you're talking to Violet Brown and I must
give you the strap."
The bairns simply howled, and when Dorothy took out her wee handkerchief
and pretended to cry, laughter was dissolved in tears.
It was minutes time, and she insisted on blowing the "Dismiss" on the
bugle. Her efforts brought the house down. The girls refused to dismiss,
they crowded round Dorothy and touched her furs. She was in high
spirits.
"You know, girls, I'm an actress and this big bad teacher of yours is a
very old pal of mine. He isn't such a bad sort really, you know," and
she put her arm round my shoulders.
"See her little game, girls?" I said. "Do you notice that this woman
from a disreputable profession is making advances to me? She really
wants me to kiss her, you know. She--" But Dorothy shoved a piece of
chalk into my mouth.
What a day we had! Dorothy stayed all day, and by four o'clock she knew
all the big girls by their Christian names. She insisted on their
calling her Dorothy. She even tried to talk their dialect, and they
screamed at her attempt to say "Guid nicht the noo."
In the afternoon I got her to sing and play; then she danced a ragtime,
and in a few minutes she had the whole crowd ragging up and down the
floor.
She stayed to tea, and we reminisced about London. Dear old Dorothy!
What a joy it was to see her again, but how dull will school be
tomorrow! Ah, well, it is a workaday world, and the butterflies do not
come out every day. If Dorothy could read that sentence she would purse
up her pretty lips and say, "Butterfly, indeed, you old bluebottle!" The
dear child!
* * *
The school to-day was like a ballroom the "morning after." The bairns
sat and talked about Dorothy, and they talked in hushed tones as about
one who is dead.
"Please, sir," asked Violet, "will she come back again?"
"I'm afraid not," I answered.
"Please, sir, you should marry her, and then she'll always be here."
"She loves another man, Vi," I said ruefully, and when Vi whispered to
Katie Farmer, "What a shame!" I felt very sad. For the moment I loved
Dorothy, but it was mere sentimentalism, Dorothy and I could never love,
we are too much of the pal to each other for emotion to enter.
"She is very pretty," said Peggy Smith.
"Very," I assented.
"P--please, sir, you--you could marry her if you really tried?" said
Violet. She had been thinking hard for a bit.
"And break the other man's heart!" I laughed.
Violet wrinkled her brows.
"Please, sir, it wouldn't matter for him, we don't know him."
"Why!" I cried, "he is a very old friend of mine!"
"Oh!" Violet gasped.
"Please, sir," she said after a while, "do you know any more actresses?"