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“I can only imagine,” Jane said, “especially since we had a few bouts of unruly behavior ourselves at school.”
“That we did,” Madalene agreed with a chuckle as she started up the stairs.
Once they reached the top of the stairs, Madalene led them towards a closed door. “Miss Gaillard is our new French teacher,” she revealed, “and she has quite a way with the girls.”
Madalene opened the door and stepped into the room. The girls were sitting on chairs in a circle and Miss Gaillard was speaking French to them.
Miss Gaillard stopped speaking and met her gaze. “Good morning, Mademoiselle Dowding,” she greeted in her usual thick French accent.
“Good morning, Miss Gaillard,” Madalene replied. “I apologize for the intrusion, but we were hoping to observe your lesson.”
Miss Gaillard nodded her understanding. “We are learning how to say our colors in French.” She glanced down at the girls. “Would anyone like to demonstrate what they have learned for Mademoiselle Dowding?”
A lanky girl raised her hand. “I would, Mademoiselle Gaillard,” she replied energetically as she kicked her feet under her chair.
Miss Gaillard gave her a look of approval. “Begin when you are ready, Tabitha.”
Jumping up to her feet, the girl recited, “Rouge, orange, jaune, bleu, violet, brun, noir, blanc.”
“Well done, Tabitha,” Madalene praised.
The girl smiled proudly as she rocked on her heels. “Mademoiselle Gaillard says that I am a natural at speaking French.”
“Does she now?” Madalene asked, smiling at the girl’s exuberance.
Miss Gaillard interjected, “It is true. Like Tabitha, all my students are excelling at a very rapid pace.”
“That is wonderful to hear,” Madalene praised.
“Earlier, I was telling the children about my childhood home in France,” Miss Gaillard shared, “and about all the brightly colored flowers that grew in fields that surrounded us, including the poppy flower.”
Jane stepped further into the room. “I am not familiar with the poppy flower.”
“It is a vibrant red flower that brings much joy to the people who look upon it,” Miss Gaillard said with a wistful tone in her voice. “I miss gazing at them from my room.”
“How long have you been in England?” Lady Hawthorne asked.
Miss Gaillard gave her a sad smile. “Since before the war,” she replied. “My parents thought I would be safer at my cousin’s home in Stratford.”
“And your parents?” Lady Hawthorne inquired. “Have they been affected by the war?”
“I’m afraid I haven’t heard from them in over a year,” Miss Gaillard admitted, her voice hitching.
Compassion was in Lady Hawthorne’s voice as she expressed, “I am sorry to hear that.”
Tears came into Miss Gaillard’s eyes, but she blinked them back. “It is I that should apologize,” she said. “I’m afraid I am letting my emotions get the best of me.”
“You have no reason to apologize,” Madalene asserted. “I can’t imagine how hard it is, not hearing from your parents in all this time.”
“Thank you,” Miss Gaillard responded. “But I can’t dwell on the negative, no? After all, there is no good that would come from that.”
“Well said,” Lady Hawthorne praised.
Tabitha raised her hand.
Miss Gaillard directed her attention towards the girl. “Yes, Tabitha?” she asked.
“Shouldn’t this conversation be in French?” Tabitha asked innocently.
