BREAKING IN A WILD COLT.
Miss Percival's accident, and Bridget O'Hara's share in it, were the
subjects of conversation not only that night, but the next morning.
The doctor had come to see Evelyn, had pronounced her whole in limb,
and not as much shaken by her fall out of her carriage as might have
been expected. After prescribing a day in bed, and all absence of
excitement, he went away, promising to look in again in a few days.
Mrs. Freeman breathed a sigh of relief.
"And now," she said, turning to her two sisters, "the question of
questions is this: what is to be done with Bridget O'Hara? Is she to
continue at Mulberry Court after such a daring act of disobedience?
Must the safety of the other scholars be sacrificed to her?"
"I'd punish her very severely," said Miss Patience. "I am sure
punishment is what she wants. She ought to be broken in."
"I don't believe you'll ever drive her," said Miss Delicia. "I know
that sort of character. It's only hardened when it's driven."
"I shall do nothing to-night," said Mrs. Freeman. "But to-morrow,
after morning school, I must speak to Bridget. Her conduct during that
interview will more or less decide what steps I must take."
The next morning, after breakfast, Mrs. Freeman went upstairs to sit
with her favorite Evelyn.
Evelyn Percival, the head girl of the school, was now between
seventeen and eighteen years of age. She was a rather pale, rather
plain girl; her forehead was broad and low, which gave indications of
thoughtfulness more than originality; her wide open gray eyes had a
singularly sweet expression; they were surrounded by dark eyelashes,
and were the best features in a face which otherwise might have
appeared almost insignificant.
But plain as Evelyn undoubtedly was, no one who knew her long ever
remarked about her appearance, or gave a second thought to the fact
that she could lay small claim to physical beauty.
There was a spirit that shone out of those gray eyes, and lent
sweetness to that mouth, which was in itself so beautiful that it
radiated all over Evelyn, and gave her that strong fascination which
those who are striving heavenward ever possess.
She never came into a room without exercising in a silent, unobtrusive,
very gentle way, a marked effect for good.
Uncharitable talk about others ceased when Evelyn drew near.
Selfishness slunk away ashamed.
All the other girls in the school tried to be good when Evelyn was by,
not because she would reproach them, but because she had a certain way
about her which made goodness so attractive that they were forced to
follow it.
She was not a specially clever girl, nevertheless she was now, in
virtue of her seniority, and a certain painstaking determination, which
made her capable of mastering her studies, at the head of the school.
There are some jealous people who dislike the beautiful because they
are beautiful, the good because they are good. Girls with this special
character are to be found in every school. Janet May was one of them,
but perhaps in the whole of Mulberry Court she was the only person who
at this juncture cordially disliked Evelyn Percival.
"It is delightful to have you back again," said Mrs. Freeman, bending
over her pupil and kissing her. "And really, Evelyn, you look almost
well. Oh, my dear child, what a fright I got about you last night."
"But I'm all right to-day," said Evelyn, in her bright voice. "I don't
feel any bad effects whatever from my accident. I can't think why I was
so stupid as to faint, and give you a fright. I ought really to have
more control over my nerves."
"My dear, you have been ill, which accounts for your nervousness. But
in any case a person with the stoutest nerves may be pardoned for
fainting if she is flung out of a carriage. I cannot imagine how you
escaped as you have done."
"I feel quite well," replied Evelyn, "quite well, and disinclined to
stay in bed. I want to get up and see all my friends. You don't know
how I have been looking forward to this."
"You shall see the girls one at a time in your room, darling, for
whether you feel well or not, the doctor wishes you to remain quiet
to-day."
Evelyn gave a very faint sigh, and turning her head looked out of the
window.
Mrs. Freeman went over and drew back the curtains.
"You can watch the sea from your bed, my dear," she said, "and I will
send Dorothy to sit with you after morning school. Now I want to ask
you if you can give any idea of how the accident occurred?"
A slight additional color came into Miss Percival's cheeks.
"Caspar shied at something," she said.
"Yes, but at what?"
"Well, Mrs. Freeman, you know how fond the children are of me, and I of
them. They came to meet me, several of the little ones, and one tall,
beautiful girl, whom I do not know. Perhaps they were all over-excited.
They shouted a good deal, and waved branches of trees. Poor Caspar
evidently could not stand it; but they really did nothing that anyone
could blame them about."
"Nonsense, Evelyn. They disobeyed my most stringent orders. Are they
not to be blamed for that?"
"Hadn't they got leave to come to meet me?"
"No, it was that wild Irish girl's doing. I really don't know what to
do with her."
"Is she the beautiful girl who was the ringleader? I don't think I ever
saw anyone with such presence of mind. She absolutely caught me as I
was flung out of the carriage. I felt her arms round me; that was why I
was not hurt."
"Yes, I am sure she has a good deal of physical courage, but that
does not alter the fact of her having defied my authority and led the
children into mischief."
"Poor girl!" said Evelyn, a wistful expression coming into her eyes.
"Now, my dear, you are not going to plead for her. I must manage her my
own way. I will leave you now, Evelyn. Rest all you can, dear, and if
you are very good you may perhaps be allowed to join us at supper."
Mrs. Freeman left her pupil's room, and went downstairs.
Evelyn Percival was one of the few girls in the school who was
privileged to have a room to herself. Her little room was prettily
draped in white and pink. It was called the Pink Room, and adjoined the
Blue Room, which was occupied by Bridget O'Hara.
On her way downstairs Mrs. Freeman stepped for a moment into Bridget's
room. Her pupil's large traveling trunks had been removed to the box
room, but many showy dresses and much finery of various sorts lay
scattered about.
Bridget was evidently not blessed with the bump of order. Valuable
rings and bracelets lay, some on the mantelpiece, some on the dressing
table; ribbons, scarfs, handkerchiefs, littered the chairs, the
chest of drawers, and even the bed. A stray stocking poked its foot
obtrusively out of one of the over-packed drawers of the wardrobe.
Photographs of friends and of scenery lay face downward on the
mantelpiece, and kept company with Bridget's brushes and combs in her
dressing-table drawer.
Mrs. Freeman was very particular with regard to tidiness, and the
condition of this very pretty room filled her with grave displeasure.
The rules with regard to tidy rooms, neatly kept drawers, a place for
everything and everything in its place, were most stringent at Mulberry
Court, but up to the present rules mattered nothing at all to Bridget
O'Hara.
"There is nothing whatever for it," murmured Mrs. Freeman; "I must
punish the poor child in a way she will really feel. If this fails,
and I cannot break her in before the end of the term, I must ask her
father to remove her."
Mrs. Freeman sighed as she said these words.
She went downstairs and entered her own private sitting room. It was
now half-past eleven o'clock, and morning school was over. The weather
was too hot for regular walks, and the girls were disporting themselves
according to their own will and pleasure on the lawns and in the
beautiful grounds which surrounded the school.
Mrs. Freeman could see them as she sat in her sitting room.
Janet, accompanied by Olive and Ruth, was pacing slowly backward and
forward under some shady trees. Her satellites were devoted to her,
and Janet's slender figure was very erect, and her manner somewhat
dictatorial. Dorothy Collingwood was not to be seen, she had evidently
gone to join Evelyn upstairs. The girls of the middle school were
preparing to exert themselves over more than one tennis match. The
smaller children were going down to the shore.
Bridget, her hat hanging on her arm, defiance very marked on her brow,
came suddenly into view. She was alone, and Mrs. Freeman noticed that
Janet and her two companions stopped to look at her as if they rather
enjoyed the spectacle. They paused for a moment, stared rudely, then
turned their backs on Miss O'Hara.
Bridget wore a white muslin dress with a long train. Her silver girdle
was clasped round her waist. She went deliberately up to a rose tree in
full flower, and, picking two or three half-opened buds, put them in
her girdle.
Mrs. Freeman got up, and sounded an electric bell in the wall.
When the servant answered her summons, she desired her to ask Miss
O'Hara to come to her immediately.
In about ten minutes' time Bridget came into the room without knocking.
Her hat was still swinging on her arm; there was a wild-rose color on
her cheeks; her eyes had a certain excited, untamed gleam in them.
"Did you want me, Mrs. Freeman?" she said, in her lazy, rich, somewhat
impertinent voice.
"I certainly want you, Bridget. I am not in the habit of sending for my
pupils if I don't wish to speak to them."
Bridget uttered a faint sigh.
"Well, I'm here," she said; "what is it?" She still used that
half-mocking, indifferent voice.
Mrs. Freeman could scarcely restrain her impatience.
"I'm afraid I have some unpleasant things to talk about, Miss O'Hara,"
she said. "But, before I begin, I must distinctly request you to
remember that you are a young girl in the presence of the lady who has
been appointed by your father to guide, direct, and command you."
"Command me?" said Bridget, her nostrils dilating.
"Yes; does not a mistress always command her pupils?"
"When she can," replied Bridget. Her hands dropped to her sides. She
lowered her eyes; her proud lips were firmly shut.
After a little pause, during which neither mistress nor pupil spoke,
the pupil raised her head.
"I hate school," she said. "I want to go back to the Castle. Can I go
to-day?"
"No, Bridget, you cannot. You have been sent here to be under my care,
and you must remain with me at least until the end of the term."
"When will that be?"
"Not for over a month?"
"Couldn't you write to father, Mrs. Freeman, and tell him that I am not
happy? Say, 'Biddy is not happy, and she wants to go back to you and
the dogs.' If you say that, he'll let me come home fast enough. You
might write by the next post, and father, he'd jump on the jaunting-car
and drive into Ballyshannon, and send you a wire. If papa wires to you,
Mrs. Freeman, the very moment he gets your letter, I may perhaps be
home on Sunday."
Bridget's changeful face was now all glowing with excitement,
eagerness, and hope. Her defiant attitude had vanished. As she looked
full at Mrs. Freeman, her governess noticed for the first time that her
eyelids were red, as if she had been crying. That, and a certain pathos
in her voice, made the head mistress regard her in a new light.
"My dear," she said, "I cannot grant your request. You have been sent
to me by your father. He wishes you to stay here as long as you are
well in body. You are quite well, Bridget; you must therefore make up
your mind, whether you like school or whether you hate it, to remain
here until the end of the term."
"Very well, if it must be so, but I shall be very miserable, and misery
soon makes me ill."
"You were not miserable yesterday."
"No, not very. The younger girls were fond of me, and Dorothy
Collingwood was nice."
"And isn't she nice to-day?"
"_No_ one is nice to-day. There's the most ridiculous, unfair fuss
being made about nothing. There isn't a single girl in the school who
hasn't turned against me, because of the accident last night to that
stupid, plain Miss Percival. If I'd hurt her, or if she were ill, and
in the least pain, I'd be as sorry as the rest of them; but she's not
in the slightest pain; she's quite well. I can't understand all this
fuss."
"Can't you, Bridget? I'm afraid I must make you understand that the
fact of Evelyn being uninjured does not alter your conduct."
"My conduct? What _have_ I done?"
"You have disobeyed me. One of my strictest rules forbids the girls to
leave the grounds without permission. You not only left the grounds
contrary to my express order, but you took several of the little
children of the school with you. It is against my orders to have the
trees destroyed by breaking off branches. Knowing this, you willfully
disobeyed me again, and you and your companions rushed down the road
shouting wildly. What was the result? Evelyn Percival mercifully
escaped serious injury, but my carriage was broken and my horse
damaged. The mere money loss you have occasioned me, Bridget----"
"Oh, papa'll pay that! Don't you fret about that, Mrs. Freeman; the
dear old dad will settle it. He quite loves writing checks!"
"But your father cannot pay for your disobedience--for the bad example
you have set the little children, for the pain and anxiety you have
given me."
"Pain and anxiety! I like that! You are just angry with me--that's
about all!"
"I am sorry for you also, my dear. I earnestly desire that you should
be a good girl, for the girl is the mother of the woman, and a good
girl makes that admirable and priceless treasure--a good woman by and
by."
Bridget moved restlessly. She looked out of the window. The sun was
shining brilliantly, and the grass under the big shady trees looked
particularly inviting.
"I suppose I may go," she said, "if that's all you have got to say?"
"I have some more things to say. I must get you, Bridget, before you
leave this room, to make a promise."
"What is that?"
"That you will obey me."
"I don't know how I can, Mrs. Freeman. I said at once, when I came to
school and saw what kind of place it was, that I wouldn't obey the
rules. They were so tiresome and silly; I didn't see the use of them."
"Bridget, you are incorrigible. If kindness won't make you see that you
are bound in honor to obey me, I must try punishment. Wretched child, I
don't wish to be hard to you, but do what I say, you _must_!"
Bridget's face turned very white. She looked wildly toward the door,
then at the window.
Mrs. Freeman went up to her, and took her hand. "My dear," she said, "I
must make you feel my authority. I do this with great pain, for I know
you have not had the advantage of the training which many of the girls
who live here have received. I would treat you with kindness, Bridget,
but you won't receive my kindness. Now I must be severe, but for your
good. Until you promise to obey the rules of the school, you must not
join your schoolfellows either at work or play. My sister Patience
will allow you to sit with her in her sitting room, and your meals
will be brought to you there. The length of your punishment rests with
yourself, my dear."