looked at Mary with a curious expression in her eyes, but neither
of them added her voice to the other girls' solicitations, and the
little group stood there in what threatened to become a painful silence
when Nan felt a light touch on her shoulder, and, turning around,
discovered Miss Blake standing at her elbow.

"O Nan!" she said, smiling brightly at the other girls, as if to excuse
herself for not including them in her familiarity, "won't you please go
and see if you can't entertain that poor young Joe Tracy? I've done my
best, but he won't come out of his shell for all I can do, and I think
your hearty, breezy way is just what he needs. He looks so forlorn,
tucked away 'all alone by himself,' as you would say."

She patted the girl affectionately on the shoulder as she sent her on
her way, saying heartily, as she passed out of ear-shot: "I always feel
perfectly secure when I can fall back on Nan to help me out with shy,
sensitive people. She has such a great, warm heart that it seems to
thaw their stiffness right out of them."

Louie threw her arm impulsively about the governess' waist:

"You're such a dear!" she cried, demonstratively; "and I'm over and
over obliged to you for letting me come here and get acquainted with
Nan. I think she is ever so nice, and it's a shame that we haven't
known each other before."

Miss Blake gave the girl a hearty smile.

"Better late than never," she returned gayly.

Grace Ellis reddened and Mary Brewster tilted her chin superciliously,
but they both turned their eyes suddenly in the direction of the other
end of the room as Ruth Andrews grasped Miss Blake's arm, and whispered
excitedly:

"For goodness' sake, do look over there! Nan has got Joe Tracy
laughing already."

Sure enough, the lad's pale, sensitive face was all aglow, and, as he
listened to what the girl was saying, his eyes brightened and his mouth
danced up at the corners in a laugh of genuine appreciation. Nan was
gesticulating in her own graphic fashion, and the girls could easily
follow her by watching her expression and her vivid pantomime.

Plainly she was describing the sleight-of-hand performance to her
bashful friend, and Miss Blake could readily see that she was not
sparing herself in the recital.

She raised her hands to her head and pretended to take off her hat,
which she made a show of reluctantly surrendering to some one who
received it with a profound bow. Then she suddenly leaned for