" She ceased her babble, as vain words die when there is a
sense of no one listening.
Elsie stood at the window looking back into the room. She thought, "Mother
doesn't know what she is saying. What is she worried about?"
The bishop was writing with a gold pencil on the margin of the newspaper.
He folded it with the writing on top.
"If you had consulted me about that child,"--he looked at Elsie,--"I should
have said, 'Do not hurry her--do not hurry her. Her education will come as
God sends it.' With experience, as with death, it is the prematureness that
hurts."
His beautiful voice and perfect accent filled the silence with heart-warmed
cadences.
"Well, good-by, Mrs. Valentin. Remember me to that busy husband."
Mrs. Valentin rose; the bishop took her hand. "Elsie will see me to the
elevator. This is the evening paper."
He offered it with the writing toward her. Mrs. Valentin read what he had
written: "Billy Castant was killed in the charge at San Juan. Every man in
that fight deserves the thanks of the nation."
"Come, Elsie, see me to my carriage," the bishop was saying. He placed the
girl's hand on his arm and led her out of the room.
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