. Emmy Lou : her book & heart . once sweeps the pageantry of Myth-ology. Philemon bends above old Baucis atthe High School gate, though hitherto theyhave been sycamores. Olympus isjust beyondthe clouds. The Elysian Fields lie only thesurrender of the will away, if one but droops,with absent eye, head propped on hand, anddreams But Emily, all at once, is conscious thatMiss Beatons eyes are on her, at which shemoves suddenly and looks up. But this mild-eyed teacher with the sweet, strong smile is butgazing absently down on her the while shetalks. Emily likes Miss Beaton, the teacher ofHistoryo H
. Emmy Lou : her book & heart . once sweeps the pageantry of Myth-ology. Philemon bends above old Baucis atthe High School gate, though hitherto theyhave been sycamores. Olympus isjust beyondthe clouds. The Elysian Fields lie only thesurrender of the will away, if one but droops,with absent eye, head propped on hand, anddreams But Emily, all at once, is conscious thatMiss Beatons eyes are on her, at which shemoves suddenly and looks up. But this mild-eyed teacher with the sweet, strong smile is butgazing absently down on her the while shetalks. Emily likes Miss Beaton, the teacher ofHistoryo Her skirts trail softly and her hairis ruddy where it is not brown ; she forgets,and when she rises her handkerchief is alwaysfluttering to the floor. Emily loves to be theone to jump and pick it up. Miss Beatons[238] A BALLAD IN PRINT O LIFE handkerchiefs are fine and faintly sweet andsoftly crumpled, and Emily loves the smilewhen Miss Beatons absent gaze comes backand finds her waiting. But to-day, what is this she is saying ?. Who is the beautiful youth she is telling about?Adonis ? Beloved, did she say, and wounded ?Wounded unto death, but loved and never for-gotten, and from whose blood sprang the wind-swept petals of anemone Miss Beatons gaze comes back to herschool-room and she takes up the book. Thestory is told. [ 239] EMMY LOU Emily had not known that her eyes hadfilled—tears come so unlooked-for these days—until the ring on Miss Beatons hand glis-tened and the facets of its jewel broke intogleams. She caught her breath, she sat up suddenly,for she knew—all at once she knew—it wasMiss Beaton who had been the bride, and thering was the sign. She loved Miss Beaton with a sudden rapt-ure, and henceforth gazed upon her with secretadoration. She made excuses to consult booksin Miss Beatons room, that she might be nearher; she dreamed, and the sweetness and thesadness of it centred about Miss Beaton. She told Rosalie. Why, of course, Iguessed her right at first, said
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