Page 269 - The Story of My Lif

anything could be done for his friend’s child. He saw a gentleman whom he

presumed to be the director, and told him about Helen. He says the gentleman
was not particularly interested, but said he would see if anything could be done.
Doesn’t it seem strange that Mr.

Anagnos never referred to this interview?

March 20, 1887.

My heart is singing for joy this morning. A miracle has happened!

The light of understanding has shone upon my little pupil’s mind, and behold, all
things are changed!

The wild little creature of two weeks ago has been transformed into a gentle
child. She is sitting by me as I write, her face serene and happy, crocheting a
long red chain of Scotch wool. She learned the stitch this week, and is very
proud of the achievement. When she succeeded in making a chain that would
reach across the room, she patted herself on the arm and put the first work of her
hands lovingly against her cheek. She lets me kiss her now, and when she is in a
particularly gentle mood, she will sit in my lap for a minute or two; but she does
not return my caresses. The great step—the step that counts—has been taken.
The little savage has learned her first lesson in obedience, and finds the yoke
easy. It now remains my pleasant task to direct and mould the beautiful
intelligence that is beginning to stir in the child-soul. Already people remark the
change in Helen. Her father looks in at us morning and evening as he goes to and

from his office, and sees her contentedly stringing her beads or making
horizontal lines on her sewing-card, and exclaims, “How quiet she is!” When I
came, her movements were so insistent that one always felt there was something
unnatural and almost weird about her. I have noticed also that she eats much less,
a fact which troubles her father so much that he is anxious to get her home. He
says she is homesick.

I don’t agree with him; but I suppose we shall have to leave our little bower very