Old Ugly-Face by Talbot Mundy

Elsa's bazaar-bought raincoat made a pool around her feet on the floor of Nancy Strong's hallway. The turbaned servant who hung up the raincoat and knelt to wipe her wet shoes clucked solicitous comment. He was used to all kinds of people--even well-bred, gently mannered people in inexpensive clothes, who came without warning in the rain, at unconscionable hours. But why no galoshes? Why were her shoes not wetter than they were? If she hadn't walked, how had she got there? The effort of suppressing the urge to ask questions so occupied his mind that he forgot his manners and left her standing in the hall while he switched on the light in the living room and frugally added pine knots to the blazing fire.

The hall was lined on both sides with books in shelves about shoulder-high; on the wall above those were plainly framed photographs of ex-pupils of Nancy's school. Tibet, Nepaul and every province of India were represented. On top of the shelves were statuettes, done in clay by the pupils and baked in the school kiln. Some of them were very revealing portraits of Nancy Strong as seen through the eyes of attentive, inquisitive Indian youth. No two alike--even remotely alike--and yet all unmistakably Nancy Strong in one mood or another.