“I’ve often thought I’d like to be the matron of some very smart school for girls,” said Susan, “and live either in or near some big Eastern city, and take the girls to concerts and lectures and walking in the parks, and have a lovely room full of books and pictures, where they would come and tell me things, and go to Europe now and then for a vacation!”

“That would be a lovely life, Sue.  Why not work for that?”

“Why, I don’t know how.  I don’t know of any such school.”

“Well, now let us suppose the head of such a school wants a matron,” Mrs. Carroll said, “she naturally looks for a lady and a linguist, and a person of experience—–­”

“There you are!  I’ve had no experience!” Susan said, instantly depressed.  “I could rub up on French and German, and read up the treatment for toothache and burns—­but experience!”

“But see how things work together, Sue!” Mrs. Carroll exclaimed, with a suddenly bright face.

“Here’s Miss Berrat, who has the little school over here, simply crazy to find someone to help her out.  She has eight—­or nine, I forget—­day scholars, and four or five boarders.  And such a dear little cottage!  Miss Pitcher is leaving her, to go to Miss North’s school in Berkeley, and she wants someone at once!”

“But, Aunt Jo, what does she pay?”

“Let me see—–­” Mrs. Carroll wrinkled a thoughtful brow.  “Not much, I know.  You live at the school, of course.  Five or ten dollars a month, I think.”

“But I couldn’t live on that!” Susan exclaimed.

“You’d be near us, Sue, for one thing.  And you’d have a nice bright sunny room.  And Miss Berrat would help you with your French and German.  It would be a good beginning.”

“But I simply couldn’t—­” Susan stopped short.  “Would you advise it, Aunt Jo?” she asked simply.

Mrs. Carroll studied the bright face soberly for a moment.

“Yes, I’d advise it, Sue,” she said then gravely.  “I don’t think that the atmosphere where you are is the best in the world for you just now.  It would be a fine change.  It would be good for those worries of yours.”

“Then I’ll do it!” Susan said suddenly, the unexplained tears springing to her eyes.

“I think I would.  I’ll go and see Miss Berrat next week,” Mrs. Carroll said.  “There’s the boat making the slip, Sue,” she added, “let’s get the table set out here on the porch while they’re climbing the hill!”

Up the hill came Philip and Josephine, just home from the city, escorted by Betsey and Jim who had met them at the boat.  Susan received a strangling welcome from Betts, and Josephine, who looked a little pale and tired after this first enervating, warm spring day, really brightened perceptibly when she went upstairs with Susan to slip into a dress that was comfortably low-necked and short-sleeved.

Presently they all gathered on the porch for dinner, with the sweet twilighted garden just below them and anchor lights beginning to prick, one by one, through the soft dusky gloom of the bay.