During her stay at the great school, she made but one visit to Oxbow Village.  She did not try to startle the good people with her accomplishments, but they were surprised at the change which had taken place in her.  Her dress was hardly more showy, for she was but a school-girl, but it fitted her more gracefully.  She had gained a softness of expression, and an ease in conversation, which produced their effect on all with whom she came in contact.  Her aunt’s voice lost something of its plaintiveness in talking with her.  Miss Cynthia listened with involuntary interest to her stories of school and school-mates.  Master Byles Gridley accepted her as the great success of his life, and determined to make her his chief heiress, if there was any occasion for so doing.  Cyprian told Bathsheba that Myrtle must come to be a great lady.  Gifted Hopkins confessed to Susan Posey that he was afraid of her, since she had been to the great city school.  She knew too much and looked too much like a queen, for a village boy to talk with.

Mr. William Murray Bradshaw tried all his fascinations upon her, but she parried compliments so well, and put off all his nearer advances so dexterously, that he could not advance beyond the region of florid courtesy, and never got a chance, if so disposed, to risk a question which he would not ask rashly, believing that, if Myrtle once said No, there would be little chance of her ever saying Yes.

CHAPTER XXIV.

Mustering of forces.

Not long after the tableau performance had made Myrtle Hazard’s name famous in the school and among the friends of the scholars, she received the very flattering attention of a call from Mrs. Clymer Ketchum, of 24 Carat Place.  This was in consequence of a suggestion from Mr. Livingston Jenkins, a particular friend of the family.

“They’ve got a demonish splendid school-girl over there,” he said to that lady, “made the stunningest looking Pocahontas at the show there the other day.  Demonish plucky looking filly as ever you saw.  Had a row with another girl,—­gave the war-whoop, and went at her with a knife.  Festive,—­hey?  Say she only meant to scare her,—­looked as if she meant to stick her, anyhow.  Splendid style.  Why can’t you go over to the shop and make ’em trot her out?”

The lady promised Mr. Livingston Jenkins that she certainly would, just as soon as she could find a moment’s leisure,—­which, as she had nothing in the world to do, was not likely to be very soon.  Myrtle in the mean time was busy with her studies, little dreaming what an extraordinary honor was awaiting her.

That rare accident in the lives of people who have nothing to do, a leisure morning, did at last occur.  An elegant carriage, with a coachman in a wonderful cape, seated on a box lofty as a throne, and wearing a hat-band as brilliant as a coronet, stopped at the portal of Madam Delacoste’s establishment.  A card was sent in bearing the open sesame of Mrs. Clymer Ketchum, the great lady of 24 Carat Place.  Miss Myrtle Hazard was summoned as a matter of course, and the fashionable woman and the young girl sat half an hour together in lively conversation.