A STRIKE IN THE SCHOOLROOM.
"Multiplication's my vexation,
Division is as bad."
Colin went off to school "the day after to-morrow," as he had said.
The house seemed very quiet without him, and everybody felt sorry he
had gone. The day after he left Miss Pinkerton came back, and the
little girls' lessons began.
"How do you like her?" said Rosy to Beata the first morning.
"I think she is kind," said Bee, but that was all she said.
It was true that Miss Pinkerton meant to be kind, but she did not
manage to gain the children's hearts, and Bee soon came to understand
why Rosy called her "pretending." She was so afraid of vexing anybody
that she had got into the habit of agreeing with every one without
really thinking over what they meant, and she was so afraid also of
being blamed for Rosy's tempers that she would give in to her in any
way. So Rosy did not respect her, and was sometimes really rude to
her.
"Miss Pink," she said one morning a few days after lessons had begun
again, "I don't want to learn any more arithmetic."
"No, my dear?" said Miss Pink, mildly. "But what will you do when you
are grown-up if you cannot count--everybody needs to know how to
count, or else they can't manage their money."
"I don't want to know how to manage my money," replied Rosy, "somebody
must do it for me. I won't learn any more arithmetic, Miss Pink."
Miss Pink, as was a common way of hers in a difficulty with Rosy,
pretended not to hear, but Beata noticed, and so, you may be sure, did
Rosy, that they had no arithmetic that morning, though Miss Pink said
nothing about it, leaving it to seem as if it were by accident.
Beata liked sums, and did them more quickly than her other lessons.
But she said nothing. When lessons were over and they were alone, Rosy
threw two or three books up in the air, and caught them again.
"Aha!" she said mischievously, "we'll have no more nasty sums--you'll
see."
"Rosy," said Bee, "you can't be in earnest. Miss Pink won't leave off
giving us sums for always."
"Won't she?" said Rosy. "She'll have to. _I_ won't do them."
"I will," said Bee.
"How can you, if she doesn't give you any to do?"
"If she really doesn't give us any to do I'll ask her for them, and if
she still doesn't, then I'll tell your mother that we're not learning
arithmetic any more."
"You'll tell mamma," said Rosy, standing before her and looking very
fierce.
"Yes," said Beata. "Arithmetic is one of the things my mother wants me
to learn very well, and if Miss Pink doesn't teach it me I shall tell
your mother."
"You mean tell-tale," cried Rosy, her face getting red with anger.
"That's what you call being a friend to me and helping me to be good,
when you know there's nothing puts me in such a temper as those
_horrible_ sums. I know now how much your kindness is worth," and
what she would have gone on to say there is no knowing had not Fixie
just then come into the room, and Rosy was not fond of showing her
tempers off before her little brother.
Beata was very sorry and unhappy. She said nothing more, hoping that
Rosy would come to see how mistaken she was, and the rest of the day
passed quietly. But the next morning it was the same thing. When they
came to the time at which they usually had their arithmetic, Rosy
looked up at Miss Pink with a determined air.
"No arithmetic, Miss Pink, you know," she said.
Miss Pink gave a sort of little laugh.
"My dear Rosy," she said, "you are so very comical! Come now, get your
slate--see there is dear Beata all ready with hers. You shall not have
very hard sums to-day, I promise you."
"Miss Pink," said Rosy, "I won't do _any_ sums. I told you so
yesterday, and you know I mean what I say. If Bee chooses to tell
tales, she may, but _I_ won't do any sums."
Miss Pink looked from one to the other.
"There is no use my doing sums without Rosy," said Bee. "We are at the
same place and it would put everything wrong."
"Yes," said Miss Pink. "I cannot give you separate lessons. It would
put everything wrong. But I'm sure you're only joking, Rosy dear. We
won't say anything about the sums to-day, and then to-morrow we'll go
on regularly again, and dear Beata will see it will all be right."
"No," said Rosy, "it won't be all right if you try to make me do any
sums to-morrow or any day."
Bee said nothing. She did not know what to say. She could hardly
believe Rosy was the same little girl as the Rosy whom she had heard
crying in the night, who had made her so happy by talking about trying
to be good. And how many days the silly dispute might have gone on,
there is no telling, had it not happened that the very next morning,
just as they came to the time for the arithmetic lesson, the door
opened and Mrs. Vincent came in.
"Good morning, Miss Pinkerton," she said. "I've come to see how you
are all getting on,"--for Miss Pinkerton did not live in the house,
she only came every morning at nine o'clock--"you don't find your new
pupil _very_ troublesome, I hope?" she went on, with a smile at
Beata.
"Oh dear, no! oh, certainly not," said Miss Pinkerton nervously; "oh
dear, no--Miss Beata is very good indeed. Everything's very nice--oh
we're very happy, thank you--dear Rosy and dear Beata and I."
"I am very glad to hear it," said Mrs. Vincent, but she spoke rather
gravely, for on coming into the room it had not looked to her as if
everything _was_ "very nice." Beata looked grave and troubled,
Miss Pinkerton flurried, and there was a black cloud on Rosy's face
that her mother knew only too well. "What lessons are you at now?" she
went on.
"Oh, ah!" began Miss Pinkerton, fussing among some of the books that
lay on the table. "We've just finished a chapter of our English
history, and--and--I was thinking of giving the dear children a
dictation."
"It's not the time for dictation," said Rosy. And then to Bee's
surprise she burst out, "Miss Pink, I wonder how you can tell such
stories! Everything is not quite nice, mamma, for I've just been
telling Miss Pink I won't do any sums, and it's just the time for
sums. I wouldn't do them yesterday, and I won't do them to-day, or any
day, because I hate them."
"You 'won't' and you 'wouldn't,' Rosy," said her mother, so sternly
and coldly that Bee trembled for her, though Rosy gave no signs of
trembling for herself. "Is that a way in which I can allow you to
speak? You must apologise to Miss Pinkerton, and tell her you will be
ready to do _any_ lessons she gives you, or you must go upstairs
to your own room."
"I'll go upstairs to my own room then," said Rosy at once. "I'd
'pologise to you, mamma, if you like, but I won't to Miss Pink,
because she doesn't say what's true."
"Rosy, be silent," said her mother again. And then, turning to Miss
Pinkerton, she added in a very serious tone, "Miss Pinkerton, I do not
wish to appear to find fault with you, but I must say that you should
have told me of all this before. It is most mistaken kindness to Rosy
to hide her disobedience and rudeness, and it makes things much more
difficult for me. I am _particularly_ sorry to have to punish
Rosy to-day, for I have just heard that a friend is coming to see us
who would have liked to find all the children good and happy."
Rosy's face grew gloomier and gloomier. Beata was on the point of
breaking in with a request that Rosy might be forgiven, but something
in Mrs. Vincent's look stopped her. Miss Pinkerton grew very red and
looked very unhappy--almost as if she was going to cry.
"I'm--I'm very sorry--very distressed. But I thought dear Rosy was
only joking, and that it would be all right in a day or two. I'm sure,
dear Rosy, you'll tell your mamma that you did not mean what you said,
and that you'll do your best to do your sums nicely--now won't you,
dear?"
"No," said Rosy, in a hard, cold tone, "I won't. And you might know by
this time, Miss Pink, that I always mean what I say. I'm not like
you."
After this there was nothing for it but to send Rosy up to her own
room. Mrs. Vincent told Miss Pinkerton to finish the morning lessons
with Beata, and then left the schoolroom.
Bee was very unhappy, and Miss Pink by this time was in tears.
"She's so naughty--so completely spoilt;" she said. "I really don't
think I can go on teaching her. She's not like you, dear Beata. How
happily and peacefully we could go on doing our lessons--you and
I--without that self-willed Rosy."
Bee looked very grave.
"Miss Pink," she said, "I don't like you to speak like that at all.
You don't say to Rosy to her face that you think her so naughty, and
so I don't think you should say it to me. I think it would be better
if you said to Rosy herself what you think."
"I couldn't," said Miss Pink. "There would be no staying with her if I
didn't give in to her. And I don't want to lose this engagement, for
it's so near my home, and my mother is so often ill. And Mr. and Mrs.
Vincent have been very kind--very kind indeed."
"I think Rosy would like you better if you told her right out what you
think," said Bee, who couldn't help being sorry for Miss Pinkerton
when she spoke of her mother being ill. And Miss Pink was really
kind-hearted, only she did not distinguish between weak indulgence and
real sensible kindness.
When lessons were over Mrs. Vincent called Bee to come and speak to
her.
"It is Mr. Furnivale who is coming to see us to-day," she said. "It is
for that I am so particularly sorry for Rosy to be again in disgrace.
And she has been so much gentler and more obedient lately, I am really
_very_ disappointed, and I cannot help saying so to you, Bee,
though I don't want you to be troubled about Rosy."
"I do think Rosy wants--" began Bee, and then she stopped, remembering
her promise. "Don't you think she will be sorry now?" she said. "Might
I go and ask her?"
"No, dear, I think you had better not," said Mrs. Vincent. "I will see
her myself in a little while. Yes, I believe she is sorry, but she
won't let herself say so."
Beata felt sad and dull without Rosy; for the last few days had really
passed happily. And Rosy shut up in her own room was thinking with a
sort of bitter vexation rather than sorrow of how quickly her
resolutions had all come to nothing.
"It's not my fault," she kept saying to herself, "it's all Miss
Pink's. She knew I hated sums--that horrid kind of long rows worst of
all--and she just gave me them on purpose; and then when I said I
wouldn't do them, she went on coaxing and talking nonsense--that way
that just _makes_ me naughtier. I'd rather do sums all day than
have her talk like that--and then to go and tell stories to mamma--I
hate her, nasty, pretending thing. It's all her fault; and then she'll
be going on praising Bee, and making everybody think how good Bee is
and how naughty I am. I wish Bee hadn't come. I didn't mind it so much
before. I wonder if _she_ told mamma as she said she would, and
if that was why mamma came in to the schoolroom this morning. I
_wonder_ if Bee could be so mean;" and in this new idea Rosy
almost forgot her other troubles. "If Bee did do it I shall never
forgive her--never," she went on to herself; "I wouldn't have minded
her doing it right out, as she said she would, but to go and tell
mamma that sneaky way, and get her to come into the room just at that
minute, no, I'll never--"
A knock at the door interrupted her, and then before she had time to
answer, she heard her mother's voice outside. "I'll take it in myself,
thank you, Martha," she was saying, and in a moment Mrs. Vincent came
in, carrying the glass of milk and dry biscuit which the children
always had at twelve, as they did not have dinner till two o'clock
with their father's and mother's luncheon.
"Here is your milk, Rosy," said her mother, gravely, as she put it
down on the table. "Have you anything to say to me?"
Rosy looked at her mother.
"Mamma," she said, quickly, "will you tell me one thing? Was it Bee
that made you come into the schoolroom just at sums time? Was it
because of her telling you what I had said that you came?"
Mrs. Vincent in her turn looked at Rosy. Many mothers would have
refused to answer--would have said it was not Rosy's place to begin
asking questions instead of begging to be forgiven for their naughty
conduct; but Rosy's mother was different from many. She knew that Rosy
was a strange character to deal with; she hoped and believed that in
her real true heart her little girl _did_ feel how wrong she was;
and she wished, oh, how earnestly, to _help_ the little plant of
goodness to grow, not to crush it down by too much sternness. And in
Rosy's face just now she read a mixture of feelings.
"No, Rosy," she answered very gently, but so that Rosy never for one
instant doubted the exact truth of what she said, "no, Beata had not
said one word about you or your lessons to me. I came in just then
quite by accident. I am very sorry you are so suspicious, Rosy--you
seem to trust no one--not even innocent-hearted, honest little Bee."
Rosy drew a long breath, and grew rather red. Her best self was glad
to find Bee what she had always been--not to be obliged to keep to her
terrible resolutions of "never forgiving," and so on; but her
_worst_ self felt a strange kind of crooked disappointment that
her suspicions had no ground.
"Bee _said_ she would tell you," she murmured, confusedly, "she
said if I wouldn't go on with sums she'd complain to you."
"But she would have done it in an open, honest way," said her mother.
"You _know_ she would never have tried to get you into disgrace
in any underhand way. But I won't say any more about Bee, Rosy. I must
tell you that I have decided not to punish you any more to-day, and I
will tell you that the reason is greatly that an old friend of
ours--of your father's and mine----"
"Mr. Furniture!" exclaimed Rosy, forgetting her tempers in the
excitement of the news.
"Yes, Mr. Furnivale," said her mother, and she could not keep back a
little smile; "he is coming this afternoon. It would be punishing not
only you, but your father and Bee and myself--all of us indeed--if we
had to tell our old friend the moment he arrived that our Rosy was in
disgrace. So you may go now and ask Martha to dress you neatly. Mr.
Furnivale _may_ be here by luncheon-time, and no more will be
said about this unhappy morning. But Rosy, listen--I trust to your
honour to try to behave so as to please me. I will say no more about
your arithmetic lessons; will you act so as to show me I have not been
foolish in forgiving you?"
The red flush came back to Rosy's face, and her eyes grew bright; she
was not a child that cried easily. She threw her arms round her
mother's neck, and whispered in a voice which sounded as if tears were
not very far off,
"Mamma, I _do_ thank you. I will try. I will do my sums as much
as you like to-morrow, only--"
"Only what, Rosy?"
"Can you tell Miss Pink that it is to please _you_ I want to do
them, not to please _her_, mamma--she isn't like you. I don't
believe what she says."
"I will tell Miss Pink that you want to please me certainly, but you
must see, Rosy, that obeying her, doing the lessons she gives you by
my wish, _is_ pleasing me," said her mother, though at the same
time in her own mind she determined to have a little talk with Miss
Pink privately.
"Yes," said Rosy, "I know that."
She spoke gently, and her mother felt happier about her little girl
than for long.
Mr. Furnivale did arrive in time for luncheon. He had just come when
the little girls and Fixie went down to the drawing-room at the sound
of the first gong. He came forward to meet the children with kindly
interest in his face.
"Well, Fixie, my boy, and how are you?" he said, lifting the fragile
little figure in his arms. "Why, I think you are a little bit fatter
and a little bit rosier than this time last year. And this is your
sister that I _don't_ know," he went on, turning to Rosy,
"and--why, bless my soul! here's another old friend--my busy Bee. I
had no idea Mrs. Warwick had left her with you," he exclaimed to Mrs.
Vincent.
Mrs. Warwick was Beata's mother. I don't think I have before told you
Bee's last name.
"I was just going to tell you about it, when the children came in,"
said Rosy's mother. "I knew Cecilia would be so glad to know Bee was
with us, and not at school, when her poor grandmother grew too ill to
have her."
"Yes, indeed," said Mr. Furnivale, "Cecy will be glad to hear it. She
had no idea of it. And so when you all come to pay us that famous
visit we have been talking about, Bee must come too--eh, Bee?"
Bee's eyes sparkled. She liked kind, old Mr. Furnivale, and she had
been very fond of his pretty daughter.
"Is Cecy much better?" she asked, in her gentle little voice.
"_Much_ better. We're hoping to come back to settle in England
before long, and have a nice house like yours, and then you are all to
come to see us," said Mr. Furnivale.
They went on talking for a few minutes about these pleasant plans, and
in the interest of hearing about Cecilia Furnivale, and hearing all
her messages, Rosy, who had never seen her, and who was quite a
stranger to her father too, was naturally left a little in the
background. It was quite enough to put her out again.
"I might just as well have been left upstairs in my own room," she
said to herself. "Nobody notices me--nobody cares whether I am here or
not. _I_ won't go to stay with that ugly old man and his stupid
daughter, just to be always put behind Bee."
And when Beata, with a slight feeling that Rosy might be feeling
herself neglected, and full of pleasure, too, at Mrs. Vincent's having
forgiven her, slipped behind the others and took Rosy's hand in hers,
saying brightly, "_Won't_ it be nice to go and stay with them,
Rosy?" Rosy pulled away her hand roughly, and, looking very cross,
went back to her old cry.
"I wish you'd leave me alone, Bee. I hate that sort of pretending. You
know quite well nobody would care whether _I_ went or not."
And poor Bee drew back quite distressed, and puzzled again by Rosy's
changeableness.