As prim and proper as the Seminary itself, the Schoolmistress cast an all-seeing eye over her students. Boys and girls of all ages, some neat with not a hair out of place, some tousled with untucked shirt tails. The three eldest students -- a trio of delightful and studious young ladies who had been firm friends since their first day at school -- sat in crisp perfection with eyes demurely downcast on their books.
   The Schoolmistress put everything into her role, confident in the knowledge that her students would go out into the world with the best education that she could give them. For here, the Seminary was home from home; the large timber panelled extension was filled with the scent of lavender and beeswax; the schoolyard always neatly swept and made jolly with flower beds.
   She was stern but fair, and always quick to encourage and show approval. Even the naughtiest of children made her smile, though sometimes they could not resist a childish prank and burned with shame in the face of their teacher's disappointment, which had far greater impact on them than anger.
   With sunlight streaming through the Seminary's windows to fall across the scarred wooden desks, the children would absorb the lessions of ages gone by and dream of their days to come. A seat of learning; a place for growing.