Gradually an undemonstrative friendship sprang up between the pale old gray-haired teacher and the dark young black-haired girl. Delicately, too, but gradually, the companionship of Bles and Zora was guided and regulated. * Of mornings Zora would hurry through her lessons and get excused to fly to the swamp, to work and dream alone. * At noon Bles would run down, and they would linger until he must hurry back to dinner. * After school he would go again, working while she was busy in Miss Smith’s office, and returning later, would linger awhile to tell Zora of his day while she busied herself with her little tasks. * Saturday mornings they would go to the swamp and work together, and sometimes Miss Smith, stealing away from curious eyes, would come and sit and talk with
In those days, for these two souls, earth came very near to heaven. Both were in the midst of that mighty change from youth to womanhood and manhood.
Their manner toward each other by degrees grew shyer and more thoughtful. There was less of comradeship, but the little meant more. The rough good fellowship was silently put aside; they no longer lightly clasped hands; and each at times wondered, in painful self-consciousness, if the other cared.
Then began, too, that long and subtle change wherein a soul, until now unmindful of its wrappings, comes suddenly to consciousness of body and clothes; when it gropes and tries to adjust one with the other, and through them to give to the inner deeper self, finer and fuller expression. One saw it easily, almost suddenly, in Alwyn’s Sunday suit, vivid neckties, and awkward fads.
Slower, subtler, but more striking was the change in Zora, as she began to earn bits of pin money in the office and to learn to sew.