Free Call of the Kiwi by Sarah Lark Page A

headmistress remarked as she showed her visitor out. “We were all deeply touched.”

    Gloria arrived late to her first lesson that Saturday, shaken and in tears.
    “I’m sorry, Miss Bleachum, but I had to write a letter first,” she apologized. “I have to give it to Miss Coleridge this evening. But I . . . ”
    Sarah sighed.
    “Then we should go over it together first. Do you have the letter paper with you?”
    Dear Grandmum Gwyn, Grandpa James, and Jack,
    Greetings from England. I should already have written you, but I have a lot of studying to do. I have piano lessons and sing in the choir. In English class we are reading poems by Edgar Allan Poe. We are also memorizing poems. I am making progress in drawing class. On the weekends I see Miss Bleachum. On Sunday we go to church.
    I love you all,
    Your Gloria

7
    T he tutoring on Saturday afternoons soon became the highlight of Gloria’s week. Miss Bleachum did not confine herself to French lessons. They always dedicated their first hour to it with great concentration—Miss Arrowstone and Madame Laverne, the French teacher, were expecting to see progress, after all. But then Gloria would talk about her daily martyrdom at Gabrielle’s hand, and Sarah would give her useful tips for dealing with it.
    “You don’t have to put up with everything, Gloria. There’s nothing improper about asking the housemother for help sometimes. Especially when it comes to pranks like ruining your blouses with ink. And if you don’t want to tell on her directly, ask the housemother to hold your things for you. Or stay up at night to see if the girl is up to anything, and swap your clothes for hers. Gabrielle will make quite a face when she finds the spots on her own blouse after you’ve already dressed and left. Or foist the dirty or wrinkled clothes on another roommate. Then Gabrielle will hear it from her. You’ll be playing a prank on the girl yourself for once.”
    Gloria nodded despondently. When it came to antagonizing others, she lacked all imagination. Eventually, it occurred to her to let Lilian in on what was happening. Lilian and her friends were constantly playing pranks on teachers and classmates.
    Lilian listened patiently to Gloria’s woes and smiled softly. “That’s the cow that told on us after the party, right? Well, of course I’ll come up with something.”
    At her next violin lesson Gabrielle confronted an instrument that was completely out of tune. She usually plied a highly talented little violinist in Lilian’s class with sweets to ensure her violin was in tune before her lessons. This time, however, she was forced to do it on her own before the eyes and ears of Miss Taylor-Bennington. The disgrace was complete, and Lilian giggled.
    The successful prank filled Gloria with a sort of triumph, but no actual joy. Gwyneira would have attributed her need for harmony to her Maori ancestors; her grandmother Marama had a similar nature. But at Oaks Garden Gloria’s peaceful demeanor was viewed as a weakness.
    Only during her afternoons with Miss Bleachum did the happy Gloria who was interested in the world reawaken. In order not to be overheard, the two went on long walks after French lessons. Gloria fished for tadpoles in a pond, and Sarah found a hidden place in Mrs. Buster’s garden where they could mature in a glass. Gloria observed the pollywogs’ development with fascination, and Mrs. Buster almost died of fright when she discovered twenty spirited little frogs hopping through her flower beds. It took Sarah hours to gather them up and take them back to their pond, and she received another mild chiding from the reverend.
    “That wasn’t very ladylike, my love. You should spend more time thinking about how to be a role model for the parish women.”

    “So will you be marrying the reverend soon?” Gloria asked one day during the summer holidays. The girls who remained at Oaks Garden were not closely supervised, so Gloria stole into town almost