Madge Morton, Captain of the Merry Maid by Amy D. V. Chalmers
page 16 of 197 (08%)
page 16 of 197 (08%)
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"Oh, it does not matter. Nothing matters, I am so unhappy," Miss Jones replied unexpectedly. Just why Miss Jones should have chosen Madge Morton for her confidante at this moment neither ever knew. Miss Jones had a number of friends among the other girls in the school; but she and this clever southern girl had been enemies since Miss Jones had first taken charge of the English History class and had reproved Madge for helping one of the younger girls with her lesson. Miss Jones's confession had slipped out involuntarily. Now she put her head down on the library table and sobbed. With any other teacher, or with any of the girls, Madge might have cried in sympathy. Somehow, she could not cry with Miss Jones. She felt nothing save embarrassment. "What is the matter?" she asked slowly. Miss Jones shook her head. "It's nothing. I am sorry to have given way to my feelings. I have had bad news. My doctor has just written me that if I don't spend the summer out-of-doors, I am in danger of consumption." Miss Jones uttered the dreadful word quite calmly. Madge gave a low cry of distress. She thought of the number of times she had made fun of her teacher's flat chest and stooping shoulders and of her bad temper. After all, Eleanor had been right. Illness had been the cause of Miss Jones's peculiarities. "Miss Jones," Madge returned, her sympathies fully enlisted, "you must not feel so troubled. I am sure you will soon be all right. Just think how strong you will grow with your long summer holiday |
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