Mrs. Mitchell is Defeated
After this talk with my father I fell into a sleep of perfect
contentment, and never thought of what might be on the morrow till the
morrow came. Then I grew aware of the danger I was in of being carried
off once more to school. Indeed, except my father interfered, the
thing was almost inevitable. I thought he would protect me, but I had
no assurance. He was gone again, for, as I have mentioned already, he
was given to going out early in the mornings. It was not early now,
however; I had slept much longer than usual. I got up at once,
intending to find him; but, to my horror, before I was half dressed,
my enemy, Mrs. Mitchell, came into the room, looking triumphant and
revengeful.
“I’m glad to see you’re getting up,” she said; “it’s nearly
school-time.”
The tone, and the emphasis she laid on the word _school_, would have
sufficed to reveal the state of her mind, even if her eyes had not
been fierce with suppressed indignation.
“I haven’t had my porridge,” I said.
“Your porridge is waiting you--as cold as a stone,” she answered. “If
boys will lie in bed so late, what can they expect?”
“Nothing from you,” I muttered, with more hardihood than I had yet
shown her.
“What’s that you’re saying?” she asked angrily.
I was silent.
“Make haste,” she went on, “and don’t keep me waiting all day.”
“You needn’t wait, Mrs. Mitchell. I am dressing as fast as I can. Is
papa in his study yet?”
“No. And you needn’t think to see him. He’s angry enough with you,
I’ll warrant”
She little knew what had passed between my father and me already. She
could not imagine what a talk we had had.
“You needn’t think to run away as you did yesterday. I know all about
it Mrs. Shand told me all about it I shouldn’t wonder if your papa’s
gone to see her now, and tell her how sorry he is you were so
naughty.”
“I’m not going, to school.”
“We’ll see about that”
“I tell you I won’t go.”
“And I tell you we’ll see about it”
“I won’t go till I’ve seen papa. If he says I’m to go, I will of
course; but I won’t go for you.”
“You _will_, and you _won’t_!” she repeated, standing staring at me,
as I leisurely, but with hands trembling partly with fear, partly with
rage, was fastening my nether garments to my waistcoat. “That’s all
very fine, but I know something a good deal finer. Now wash your
face.”
“I won’t, so long as you stand there,” I said, and sat down on the
floor. She advanced towards me.
“If you touch me, I’ll scream,” I cried.
She stopped, thought for a moment, and bounced out of the room. But I
heard her turn the key of the door.
I proceeded with my dressing as fast as I could then; and the moment I
was ready, opened the window, which was only a few feet from the
ground, scrambled out, and dropped. I hurt myself a little, but not
much, and fled for the harbour of Kirsty’s arms. But as I turned the
corner of the house I ran right into Mrs. Mitchell’s, who received me
with no soft embrace. In fact I was rather severely scratched with
a. pin in the bosom of her dress.
“There! that serves you right,” she cried. “That’s a judgment on you
for trying to run away again. After all the trouble you gave us
yesterday too! You are a bad boy.”
“Why am I a bad boy?” I retorted.
“It’s bad not to do what you are told.”
“I will do what my papa tells me.”
“Your papa! There are more people than your papa in the world.”
“I’m to be a bad boy if I don’t do what anybody like you chooses to
tell me, am I?”
“None of your impudence!”
This was accompanied by a box on the ear. She was now dragging me into
the kitchen. There she set my porridge before me, which I declined to
eat.
“Well, if you won’t eat good food, you shall go to school without it.”
“I tell you I won’t go to school.”
She caught me up in her arms. She was very strong, and I could not
prevent her carrying me out of the house. If I had been the bad boy
she said I was, I could by biting and scratching have soon compelled
her to set me down; but I felt that I must not do that, for then I
should be ashamed before my father. I therefore yielded for the time,
and fell to planning. Nor was I long in coming to a resolution. I drew
the pin that had scratched me from her dress. I believed she would not
carry me very far; but if she did not set me down soon, I resolved to
make her glad to do so. Further I resolved, that when we came to the
foot-bridge, which had but one rail to it, I would run the pin into
her and make her let me go, when I would instantly throw myself into
the river, for I would run the risk of being drowned rather than go to
that school. Were all my griefs of yesterday, overcome and on the
point of being forgotten, to be frustrated in this fashion? My whole
blood was boiling. I was convinced my father did not want me to go. He
could not have been so kind to me during the night, and then send me
to such a place in the morning. But happily for the general peace,
things did not arrive at such a desperate pass. Before we were out of
the gate, my heart leaped with joy, for I heard my father calling,
“Mrs. Mitchell! Mrs. Mitchell!” I looked round, and seeing him coming
after us with his long slow strides, I fell to struggling so violently
in the strength of hope that she was glad to set me down. I broke from
her, ran to my father, and burst out crying.
“Papa! papa!” I sobbed, “don’t send me to that horrid school. I can
learn to read without that old woman to teach me.”
“Really, Mrs. Mitchell,” said my father, taking me by the hand and
leading me towards her, where she stood visibly flaming with rage and
annoyance, “really, Mrs. Mitchell, you are taking too much upon you! I
never said the child was to go to that woman’s school. In fact I don’t
approve of what I hear of her, and I have thought of consulting some
of my brethren in the presbytery on the matter before taking steps
myself. I won’t have the young people in my parish oppressed in such a
fashion. Terrified with dogs too! It is shameful.”
“She’s a very decent woman, Mistress Shand,” said the housekeeper.
[Illustration]
“I don’t dispute her decency, Mrs. Mitchell; but I doubt very much
whether she is fit to have the charge of children; and as she is a
friend of yours, you will be doing her a kindness to give her a hint
to that effect. It _may_ save the necessity for my taking further and
more unpleasant steps.”
“Indeed, sir, by your leave, it would be hard lines to take the bread
out of the mouth of a lone widow woman, and bring her upon the parish
with a bad name to boot. She’s supported herself for years with her
school, and been a trouble to nobody.”
“Except the lambs of the flock, Mrs. Mitchell.--I like you for
standing up for your friend; but is a woman, because she is lone and a
widow, to make a Moloch of herself, and have the children sacrificed
to her in that way? It’s enough to make idiots of some of them. She
had better see to it. You tell her that--from me, if you like. And
don’t you meddle with school affairs. I’ll take my young men,” he
added with a smile, “to school when I see fit.”
“I’m sure, sir,” said Mrs. Mitchell, putting her blue striped apron to
her eyes, “I asked your opinion before I took him.”
“I believe I did say something about its being time he were able to
read, but I recollect nothing more.--You must have misunderstood me,”
he added, willing to ease her descent to the valley of her
humiliation.
She walked away without another word, sniffing the air as she went,
and carrying her hands folded under her apron. From that hour I
believe she hated me.
My father looked after her with a smile, and then looked down on me,
saying--
“She’s short in the temper, poor woman! and we mustn’t provoke her.”
I was too well satisfied to urge my victory by further complaint. I
could afford to let well alone, for I had been delivered as from the
fiery furnace, and the earth and the sky were laughing around me. Oh!
what a sunshine filled the world! How glad the larks, which are the
praisers amongst the birds, were that blessed morning! The demon of
oppression had hidden her head ashamed, and fled to her den!