ELIZABETH OFFENDS
The party over and holidays past, there was nothing to look forward to
but a long stretch of school-days, cold mornings and colder nights. It
was generally too cold in the attic for Elizabeth to seek that retreat
so she and Betsy preferred the latter’s warm room where, if they played
quietly, they were allowed entire freedom. Paper dolls were much in
favor these times and their adventures as set afoot by Elizabeth would
fill a book.
At school matters went on quietly, although there were days when
Elizabeth longed for excitement. Corinne having duly recovered from her
mumps, “on both sides,” took her place again. She was much chagrined
at having to forego the party and did not like to have Bess talk about
it. As it was the favorite topic of this young person she and Corinne
became less intimate. Elizabeth had given unstinted praise to the
great entertainment, had told Bess she looked perfectly lovely in her
blue frock and had said many other nice things; therefore Bess was glad
to be again considered second best and conveniently forgot about her
share in withholding Elizabeth’s invitation. The easiest way out was
always the rule Bess abided by, and as long as things in the present
went smoothly she did not bother about either past or future.
It was one cold day in January that Elizabeth found her excitement.
If she could have foreseen the nature of it she would not have been
so anxious to stir up the humdrum routine, but she did not foresee.
Neither did Bert. This youngster was as full of mischief as any boy
of his age is liable to be, and his chief aider and abetter was Patsy
McGonigle. What one did not think of the other did. It was not that
they disliked their teacher or that they wanted to annoy her, but it
was so deadly dull with nothing but lessons, and sitting still was so
very hard for restless creatures like themselves that if they could
break the monotony by causing a little ripple of mirth they did not see
why anyone should object so very much.
It was with some such thought in mind that Bert began his day. On the
way to school he had captured a little field-mouse. He did not mean
to hurt it, and did not know exactly what he meant to do with it, but
first of all he must provide a cage for it, so he took his lunch from
the tin box in which he carried it, punched a few holes through the
bottom of it with a nail, popped Mr. Mouse inside, and there he was
safe and secure. The luncheon was wrapped up in a piece of paper and
Bert proceeded to school. Once or twice he slipped a few crumbs inside
the box so that the mouse might not feel himself utterly neglected,
and would realize that he had a friend at hand. The rest of the time
the box rested in Bert’s desk. There came a moment, however, when
the spirit of mischief whispered in Bert’s ear: “Why don’t you have
a little fun? What’s the use of living if you can’t have fun?” Bert
listened to the voice of the charmer. Why not have some fun? If he let
the mouse out, slyly, of course, no one would imagine he had anything
to do with it, and it would be such sport to see the girls all jumping
about and climbing up on chairs. Even Miss Jewett would be scared; it
would be so funny to see her. Now was the propitious moment, for Miss
Jewett was putting some work on the board, the room was quiet, everyone
was busy. Bert opened his desk a little way and put his hand in. He
gently lifted the lid from the box and shut his desk quickly, then
he appeared to be applying himself diligently to his books. In a few
minutes he quietly opened his desk a few inches and presently the mouse
peeped forth.
Just what made Elizabeth turn her head at the critical moment it would
be difficult to tell, but she did so just in time to see the mouse
come forth and to see Bert’s eyes full of laughter. She knew Bert well
enough to understand what had happened. For a second she gazed with
fascinated eyes at the little creature creeping along the desk. Chilled
by its stay in the tin box, it moved slowly and Elizabeth was as quick
as a wink. She started up, threw her handkerchief over the mouse,
grabbed it and thrust it into her desk without creating much confusion.
Even Bert did not know that she had seen him open his desk to let it
out. The girls and boys behind her began to giggle. Some of them saw
what she did but they had not quite understood. Others thought it was
a make-believe mouse which she had brought to school to amuse herself
and the rest. Some thought she had taken something of her own away from
Bert, but no one knew his part in the performance, or had any idea
that her whole purpose was to save Bert from discovery and the school
from an uproar. It was a most exciting situation and Elizabeth rather
enjoyed it. She could hear the mouse running around inside her desk and
she slipped a pencil under the lid that he might have air. Betsy was
all alert and looked at her inquiringly. Elizabeth suppressed a giggle.
She was not in the least afraid of mice and rather admired the long
ears and big eyes of the little field-mice. She would like to make a
pet of this one, but it would probably be better to let it go free she
decided.
Betsy continued to look from Elizabeth to her desk with an inquiring
expression. Finally she could stand it no longer and wrote on her
slate. “What is it?”
By the same means Elizabeth wrote her answer: “Mouse.” Then both began
to giggle and a titter ran around the rows of boys and girls behind
them.
Miss Jewett looked around sharply. “What is the matter?” she asked.
The faces all sobered down. Lessons appeared to be the sole interest.
Miss Jewett returned to her work on the board.
As soon as her back was turned all eyes were bent with interest upon
Elizabeth’s desk. Nothing happened and the eyes went back to the books.
Presently Elizabeth discovered that she needed a book from her desk.
How could she get it? What was she to do when other books were needed?
She began to see difficulties before her. Why she did not have the
courage to walk up to Miss Jewett and say, “Miss Jewett, there is a
mouse in my desk,” it is hard to say. It would have been the easiest
way out of the dilemma. At all events she did not do it, but by
movements and signs let Betsy understand that she wanted the loan of
her dictionary.
Those in the rear began to comprehend the situation more clearly and
the tittering recommenced. Just as Betsy was making the transfer Miss
Jewett turned and saw who was the central figure of interest. She
determined to find out what Elizabeth was doing, for she was evidently
amusing the school in some way. Down the aisle walked Miss Jewett and
stood at Elizabeth’s desk as she received Betsy’s book into her hands.
“Haven’t you a dictionary of your own, Elizabeth?” she asked.
“Yes, Miss Jewett,” was the prompt reply.
“Why don’t you use it, then? Did you leave it at home?”
“No, Miss Jewett.”
“Where is it? Have you lent it?”
“No, Miss Jewett, I haven’t lent it.”
“Then if you have it why don’t you use it? Has anything happened to it?”
“No, Miss Jewett.” Elizabeth was becoming confused.
Miss Jewett glanced down at the desk and saw that it was a crack open.
The mouse by this time had settled down comfortably and was making no
stir; yet Miss Jewett felt that something was not exactly right. “Open
your desk and get out your book, Elizabeth,” said Miss Jewett in a
matter-of-fact way. “Don’t let us have any more talk about it.”
Elizabeth’s face turned scarlet but she made no movement to obey, she
only murmured, “I can’t,” hanging her head as she spoke. Why didn’t she
say more? Why didn’t she say: I can’t, because there is a mouse in my
desk and I don’t want it to scare you and the school? Who knows why
she did not? It was certainly very stupid of her not to, but then very
bright girls can be very stupid sometimes.
The teacher waited for the space of a minute; then she lifted the lid
of the desk and out sprang the mouse. Miss Jewett gave a small shriek
and fled to the platform. The girls all gave louder shrieks and jumped
up on their chairs, at least most of them did; some of the boys did
too. Others began to chase the mouse who was running wildly from corner
to corner.
In a moment or two Miss Jewett had regained her self-possession. “Open
the door, boys, and it will find its way out,” she said. “Sit down,
girls. It was rather startling, I admit; but there is nothing to be
afraid of.”
Phil Selden opened the outer door and the mouse found its way to
freedom. In a few minutes the school settled down again to peace and
quiet, but Elizabeth felt most uncomfortable. She thought of what she
might have said and what she did not. She knew that Miss Jewett had
a right to feel annoyed and to blame her for what had happened, but
she did not see how she, herself, could explain matters now that the
mischief was done. There was no explanation, she realized, and so she
must suffer.
As no one had been blamed, Bert congratulated himself that both he and
his sister would be let off scot-free; and at the close of the session
he went out with the rest, saying to himself that it had been good fun
and he was glad it came out as it did. Elizabeth had no such easy mind.
She did not want to discuss the subject with the rest of the girls so
she lingered behind and let them all depart ahead of her.
Miss Jewett stood at the door watching the children leave. As Elizabeth
and Betsy came along she said, “Wait a moment, Elizabeth; I want
to speak to you.” She spoke pleasantly, but she looked grave when
Elizabeth came to her. Betsy went on ahead, saying that she would wait
outside.
Miss Jewett sat down at her desk and pulled up a chair for Elizabeth.
For a moment neither spoke. Miss Jewett settled some papers, then,
leaning on her elbows with her chin in her hands, she looked at the
child before her. “Elizabeth,” she said, “will you tell me what made
you behave so badly this morning? It isn’t like you to try to make
mischief in school and all that. I have always counted upon you and
Betsy. What spirit of evil possessed you?”
“I don’t know, Miss Jewett,” replied Elizabeth in a subdued voice.
“Did you know that mouse was in your desk?”
“Yes, Miss Jewett.”
“And that was why you didn’t open it when I told you? I must confess it
was a pretty good reason, but I can’t see why you didn’t tell me it was
there.”
Elizabeth couldn’t see, either, except that the mouse had not entered
of its own accord.
“You couldn’t have put it there, of course. You couldn’t have done
that,” continued Miss Jewett, half questioningly; but Elizabeth made no
reply. Miss Jewett looked distressed. “I can scarcely believe you would
wilfully do that,” she went on. “Did you, Elizabeth?” she said, after a
pause long enough to permit Elizabeth to reply. Still no answer came.
“Did you?” repeated Miss Jewett a little more decidedly.
“I am afraid I did,” Elizabeth finally replied in so low a voice that
her teacher could scarcely hear her.
Miss Jewett’s face fell. She sat looking at Elizabeth’s downcast face
which had all the expression of one in the wrong. After a few minutes
of silence Miss Jewett arose. “We’d better not say any more about this
now,” she said. “I am so grieved and disappointed that I don’t know
exactly what to say. I want to think it over, and I want you to think
it over. Perhaps you can give me some explanation after awhile. Of
course, Elizabeth, one looks for an apology for a thing of this kind,
but I would rather wait till tomorrow, after school. You may go now.”
Elizabeth walked out, the tears running down her cheeks. It was the
first time she had left Miss Jewett’s adored presence in such a manner.
There had always been a loving kiss and a gay good-bye. What had
possessed her not to explain, but to sit there and let all this wrong
construction be put upon her actions? She hardly knew. She only felt
that Miss Jewett should have known her better than to believe that she
had planned such mischief. Appearances were against her and by some
strange contrariness she had not been able to prevent it. She would not
tell on Bert, that was certain; she had never been a tattler and she
was not going to begin now. She walked home, being glad that Betsy had
gone on ahead and that she was so late as not to encounter any of the
other girls. When she reached home she went straight to her own room
and threw herself down on the bed to have her cry out. After a little
while Babs came trudging up the stairs. She paused a moment at the door
before she called, “Lizabef, is you comin’ down to dinner?”
“I don’t want any,” returned Elizabeth from within.
Another pause while Babs considered this. “Muvver says you’d better
come and get you dinner!” came the second call.
“Tell mother I have a headache and don’t want any dinner,” was the
reply.
Babs went off murmuring to herself: “Has a headache; doesn’t want any
dinner.”
Elizabeth spoke truly, for by the time her mother came up she was
flushed and feverish and her head ached badly. Mrs. Hollins asked no
questions, but drew down the shades and dropped a light kiss on the
child’s hot cheek. “Try to go to sleep, dear,” she said. “I will send
word by Bert that you will not be at school this afternoon.” Elizabeth
was usually so eager to go that her mother knew there was no pretence
in this excuse of a headache.
In the darkened room where all was quiet Elizabeth finally did fall
asleep, and when she awoke life did not appear quite so dreary to
her. She even thought of writing a touching appeal in verse to Miss
Jewett and composed the first two lines in her mind, then she decided
that this was not the occasion for anything of the kind. She had been
wrong and yet she had not been wrong. The next day after school she
would explain in a very dignified manner and then if Miss Jewett still
demanded an apology she would see. She had been misjudged and--well,
no, she had not been condemned exactly. Miss Jewett had said she must
think it over. She had given her a chance to make an explanation,
certainly she had. Why, she had been very patient and kind when you
came to think of it. Of course nobody would like to be made ridiculous
before the whole school and it was very mortifying to be made to jump
and scream in that way. In her calmer judgment Elizabeth saw all this
and was really quite cheerful when she at last made up her mind to
trust to the morrow to smooth out the tangle. “I suppose,” said the
little girl to herself, “if she had kissed me as she always does I
wouldn’t have been so sure that she was angry with me. I got all
worked up over that and thought it was much worse than it is.” So she
arose from her bed, washed away the traces of tears, discovered that
she was very hungry and when the summons to supper came, was ready to
respond with the greatest alacrity.