THE BOARDING-SCHOOL.
Mr. Rougeant had returned early from "the town" on that Saturday
afternoon. He was now perusing the _Gazette Officielle_, the only
newspaper which he ever cast his eyes upon. The servant--a good old
Guernsey soul, who had been in the service of the family for ten
years--was busily engaged in preparing the dinner. Contrary to the
farmer's orders, Adele had been sent by Lizette (the servant) to
fetch the cider.
Unluckily for the little girl, Mr. Rougeant did not care to go to
the expense of buying a tap. In its stead he had a number of small
holes bored in one end of the cask. In these holes, which were
placed vertically, one above the other, tight fitting wooden pegs
had been driven. One of these pegs he drew out when he required some
cider.
When Adele entered the cellar, mug in hand, she examined the cask.
She did not know which peg to take out, neither did she care to
return into the kitchen with an empty vessel. She ventured
cautiously to pull out one of the pins. It fitted tightly. She
jerked on it. The peg came out; so did the cider. She hastily
replaced the peg in its place, but the cider spurted all over her
clean white pinafore. Timidly, she went back to the kitchen.
"I did not know how to----"
She did not finish. The servant perceived her plight, and, with a
gesture, silenced her. She bustled her out into the vestibule, threw
her a clean apron, bade her put it on, and proceeded to the cellar.
She speedily caused--or thought she caused--all traces of the little
girl's blunder to disappear.
When she returned, Mr. Rougeant was talking to his daughter. He was
saying: "Listen, Adele. Miss Euston's collegiate school for ladies
will re-open on Tuesday next, September the 13th, at half-past two
o'clock. A few boarders received."
"How would you like to go there?" he asked of his daughter; merely
for form's sake, however, for he had already resolved that this
would be, if possible, Adele's future home, for some ten years at
least.
"I don't know," said the little girl, placing her thumb in her
mouth;--a sure sign of mingled deep-thought and puzzlement--a mode
of expression which, by the bye, she was not to enjoy much longer.
These gesticulations are not in harmony with boarding-school
etiquette.
Her father did not make any other remark. He placed the newspaper on
one side, and fell to work with his dinner.
This important piece of business having been accomplished, he
started to go to town on foot.
His interview with Miss Euston resulted in Adele being accepted as a
boarder. She was to be entirely entrusted to the care of Miss
Euston, and, lastly, Mr. Rougeant was to pay an annual stipend of
fifty guineas.
When he came back home, Adele's father sank in a chair. He was
tired. Moreover, he was annoyed. The fifty guineas which he had
promised to pay each year vexed him.
He said to himself: "This daughter of mine will run away with all
the profit which I am making out of my newly-opened quarry. But,
since it must be, I cannot allow myself to violate the promises made
to the dying. I must try and see if I cannot save a little more than
I have done lately. This servant costs me too much. I must get rid
of her somehow. Another one, a French one for example, would work
for four or five pounds less a year."
In this puzzled state he descended to the cellar. He had an implicit
belief in cider as a general restorative. His scrutinizing glance
soon detected the ravages caused by Adele's blunder. "What a fine
excuse," he mumbled--and he grinned.
He entered the parlour where Lizette was setting things to rights
and demanded in an imperative and angry tone: "Who has done that
mess in the cellar?"
"I did," quietly answered the servant, anxious to shield Adele.
That fib she soon repented to have uttered.
"I give you a month's notice," said Mr. Rougeant, and he was about
to disappear when Lizette, feeling that she was not required any
more, and moved to the quick, turned towards her master.
"I can go now," she said.
"Well, go; so much the better."
That same evening, Mait. Jacques (Mr. Rougeant's workman) drove
Lizette in the "spring cart" to her mother's cottage.
Adele wept. Her father silenced her with a frown. "You will commence
school on Tuesday next," he said.
The little girl looked at her father in surprise, and, an inward
emotion completely mastering her, she recommenced crying.
"How shall I be able to speak to those English people?" she sobbed.
"You can talk English, can't you?" was her father's not
over-consoling remark.
"Only--a--little."
"The person to whom I spoke is a nice lady; now, don't be silly,
child."
"The little girls will laugh at me," she said, drying her tears with
her pinafore.
Her father did not answer her, but sat meditatively pulling on his
enormous nose.
It was nearly midnight when Adele managed to drop to sleep.
Tuesday came. Her father drove her to town in his old phaeton. Then,
taking her by the hand, he led her at No. ----, Grange. The two were
ushered into a small, but prettily furnished drawing-room.
After a few moments, Mdlle. Parmier entered the room, and after
having conversed in French for a few minutes with Mr. Rougeant, the
latter withdrew, bidding good-bye to his daughter who watched him
disappear with a dazed and stupefied air. "Is this a dream?" she
thought. "Ah! would that it were." Never before had she spoken to a
lady from town. She listened to hear Mdlle. Parmier's harsh voice
bid her follow her, but, instead of doing so, the little French lady
advanced towards her and in a gentle tone of voice (so soft, that
Adele stared at her in astonishment) said: "_Miss Euston va bientot
venir. Croyez-vous, ma chere, que cette nouvelle demeure vous
conviendra?_"
"_Oui_," answered Adele, greatly relieved that there was at least
one person here who could talk in French.
Then, while the lady occupied herself with a book, Adele was busy
picturing to herself the dreadful Miss Euston. Her father had said
that she was a nice lady; but, alas, how could she? Did she not
speak in English? How was she going to answer her? "She will
certainly laugh at my bad English," Adele thought; and her lips
moved about uneasily, and her eyes were moist.
She looked towards Mdlle. Parmier. She saw four or five ladies in a
confused group; she wiped away the tears that obscured her vision.
"Ah! if this lady were head mistress?" she went on thinking. "Oh! my
clothes, they are not so pretty as those which the little girls who
were in the playground wore." She listened tremblingly for the
sounds of approaching footsteps. How she wished that the ordeal of
the first interview would be passed. She grew so excited that she
would have given anything to be out of that room. Any sudden
catastrophe which would have averted the terrible ordeal of
confronting Miss Euston would have been welcomed by her. Had she
been alone, she would have tried her voice to see how it sounded in
English, but Mdlle. Parmier was there; so she only coughed a little
to clear her throat. She tried to cough softly, as she had heard
Mdlle. Parmier do; but she fancied her voice sounded hoarse and
vulgar. She cast a gaze towards a mirror placed at one end of the
room. What a plebeian figure!
Hark! what was that? a soft tread was heard approaching. The French
lady looked up from her book, and fixing her eyes encouragingly on
the little girl, she said: "_Miss Euston sera bien aise de vous
voir; parlez-vous l'anglais?_"
"_Un peu, mademoiselle_," said Adele, and the door opened.
The dreaded form of Miss Euston entered the room.
"Dis is de yong Ma'm'sel Rougeant," said the French lady,
introducing Adele to the newly-arrived lady.
The latter, a tall, refined and amiable lady, advanced towards Adele
with a pleasant air, and such a kind smile lighting up her
intelligent features that the little girl felt immediately drawn
towards her.
Miss Euston at once saw that Adele was timid and feeling very
uncomfortable.
She took the child's hand in her own and said kindly: "I am very
glad you have come, Adele; but, your hands are quite cold; come
nearer to the fire."
Adele stood up. Miss Euston put the chair nearer to the fire, placed
the child upon it, and began to chat in quite a friendly way.
Mdlle. Parmier retired. Adele's fears had vanished like a cloud of
smoke. She felt more than simple admiration for Miss Euston; she
experienced a kind of veneration for her.
Had an angel from heaven entered the room instead of this lady,
Adele would not have been much more dazzled than she now was.
"Do you understand English?" inquired Miss Euston while helping her
pupil to warm her hands.
"Not much, ma'am."
"Then you shall soon learn, for I can see a pair of intelligent eyes
beaming under those chestnut curls."
Adele smiled. She felt a kind of bitter and sweet happiness. The
dreaded introduction was over, but now there were the little girls
to encounter. What kind of reception would _they_ give her?
"I am going to have two new dresses for you to try on presently,"
said Miss Euston; "now, come, let me show you your bed chamber."
Adele was delighted with her bedroom. How neat the little crib
looked. Miss Rader had told her that the people from town never had
white linen; they knew not how to wash, and, besides, the smoke
caused their once white linen to look grimy.
After having asked Adele if she was pleased with her room, and the
little child having answered: "Yes, ma'am, very much," Miss Euston
led her into the schoolroom where about twenty young girls were
assembled. They were being directed to their respective places by
Mdlle. Parmier.
Miss Euston told Adele that she would not do anything that day but
familiarize herself with her new surroundings.
She gave her a nice book full of beautiful pictures to look at. Then
she began to attend to a class of the bigger girls.
Adele felt her heart sink a little when Miss Euston left her, but
she managed to pluck up courage and was soon absorbed looking at the
beautiful pictures in her book. She timidly raised her eyes from
time to time and gazed upon the young group of girls who were near
her. Two of them she perceived were looking at her, and exchanging
glances, after which they tittered.
This made Adele's blood rush to her face. She knew they were
laughing at her and she felt uneasy. "I am as good as they are.
Just let them wait till I have my new dresses," she thought.
She made up her mind not to look at them and kept steadily looking
at her book. But the pictures had lost their charm. Her little soul
revolted against the treatment to which she was being subjected by
these two little girls.
When the time for recreation arrived, Miss Euston took Adele by the
hand and led her up to two other girls; one about Adele's age, the
other two years older. She told them to take care of their new and
future companion. She was sure, she added, that they would make
things pleasant for her. "Yes, ma'am,--come," they said to their new
acquaintance. They led her out of the schoolroom and amused her
during the whole time that was set apart for recreation purposes. By
the time the bell rang for the pupils to form classes, the three
little girls were as friendly as could be. Adele forgot all about
the little girls that had laughed at her.
Later on in the evening, she discovered that her two little
companions were the only boarders beside herself.
The day after her entrance, an event occurred which deserves perhaps
to be narrated.
Adele walked alone down the Grange, turned to the right, and not
knowing where she was going, found herself in a lane called George
Street.
She was busily engaged contemplating a poor little crippled girl,
when the latter's crutch slipped and she fell prone on the road.
She got up quickly, however, seized her crutch and looked anxiously
round to see if someone had perceived her.
Adele stood near, smiling.
The girl in rags went up to her. "What'r'yer laughin' at, yer
dressed up doll?" she said. (Adele had one of her new dresses on.)
"If you don't stop it," she continued threateningly, "I'll give yer
such a bloomin' smack as 'l' make you think you're in the beginnin'
o' next week."
Adele did "stop it," and hastily walked away.
"What!" she said to herself, "can these little girls from town beat
you soundly enough to make you think you are in the beginning of the
week to come? They _must_ be clever. I will ask Miss Euston about
it."