“Sometimes we have talks on normal work, practical informal discussions.  Many of our scholars will be country school-teachers, you know.  Miss Adams conducts these normal hours.  One day she asked Carol what she would do if she had applied for a school, and was asked by the directors to write a thesis on student discipline, that they might judge of her and her ability by it?  Carol said, ’I’d get Lark to write it for me.’”

Even Prudence laughed a little at this, but she said, “Why don’t you scold her?”

“We talked it all over shortly after she entered school.  Miss Adams did not understand Carol at first, and thought she was a little impertinent.  But Professor Duke and I stood firm against even mentioning it to her.  She is perfectly good-natured about it.  You know, of course, Miss Starr, that we really try to make individuals of our scholars.  So many, many hundreds are turned out of the public schools all cut on one pattern.  We do not like it.  We fight against it.  Carol is different from others by nature, and we’re going to keep her different if possible.  If we crush her individuality, she will come out just like thousands of others,—­all one pattern!  Miss Adams is as fond of Carol now as any one of us.  You understand that we could not let impudence or impertinence pass unreproved, but Carol is never guilty of that.  She is always respectful and courteous.  But she is spontaneous and quick-witted, and we are glad of it.  Do you know what the scholars call Professor Duke?”

“Professor Duck,” said Prudence humbly.  “But they mean it for a compliment.  They really admire and like him very much.  I hope he does not know what they call him.”

“He does!  One day he was talking about the nobility system in England.  He explained the difference between dukes, and earls, and lords, etc., and told them who is to be addressed as Your Majesty, Your Highness, Your Grace and so on.  Then he said, ’Now, Carol, if I was the king’s eldest son, what would you call me?’ And Carol said, ’I’d still call you a Duck, Professor,—­it wouldn’t make any difference to me.’”

Prudence could only sigh.

“One other time he was illustrating phenomena.  He explained the idea, and tried to get one of the boys to mention the word,—­phenomenon, you know.  The boy couldn’t think of it.  Professor gave three or four illustrations, and still the boy couldn’t remember it.  ‘Oh, come now,’ professor said, finally, ’something unusual, something very much out of the ordinary!  Suppose you should see a blackbird running a race down the street with a sparrow, what would you call it?’ The boy couldn’t imagine, and professor said, ‘What would you call that, Carol?’ Carol said, ‘A bad dream.’”

Prudence smiled wearily.