She waited stiff and ugly till Fräulein, secure and summer-clad, spoke softly again. "You think, my child, you shall like the profession of a teacher?" "Oh yes," said Miriam, from the midst of a tingling flush. "I think you have many qualities that make the teacher.... You are earnest and serious-minded.... Grave.... Sometimes perhaps overgrave for your years.... But you have a serious fault--which must be corrected if you wish to succeed in your calling." Miriam tried to pull her features into an easy enquiring seriousness. A darkness was threatening her. "You have a most unfortunate manner." Without relaxing, Miriam quivered. She felt the blood mount to her head. "You must adopt a quite, quite different manner. Your influence is, I think, good, a good English influence in its most general effect. But it is too slightly so and of too much indirection. You must exert it yourself, in a manner more alive, you must make it your aim that you shall have a responsible influence, a direct personal influence. You have too much of chill and formality. It makes a stiffness that I am willing to believe you do not intend." Miriam felt a faint dizziness. "If you should fail to become more genial, more simple and natural as to your bearing, you will neither make yourself understood nor will you be loved by your pupils." "No----" responded Miriam, assuming an air of puzzled and interested consideration of Fräulein's words. She was recovering. She must get to the end of the interview and get away and find the answer. Far away beneath her fear and indignation, Fräulein was answered. She must get away and say the answer to herself. "To truly fulfil the most serious rôle of the teacher you must enter into the personality of each pupil and must sympathise with the struggles of each one upon the path on which our feet are set. Efforts to good kindliness and thought for others must be encouraged. The teacher shall be sunshine, human sunshine, encouraging all effort and all lovely things in the personality of the pupil." Fräulein rose and stood, tall. Then her half-tottering decorous footsteps began. Miriam had hardly listened to her last words. She felt tears of anger rising and tried to smile. "I shall say now no more. But when you shall hear from your good parents, we can further discuss our plans." Fräulein was at the door. Fräulein left the saal by the small door and Miriam felt her way to the schoolroom. The girls were gathering there ready for a walk. Some were in the hall and Fräulein's voice was giving instructions: "Machen Sie schnell, Miss Henderson," she called. Fräulein had never before called to her like that. It had always been as if she did not see her but assumed her ready to fall in with the general movements. Now it was Fräulein calling to her as she might do to Gertrude or Solomon. There was no hurried whisper from Jimmie telling her to "fly for her life."