"SENT TO COVENTRY."
There were many girls in the school who remembered that dismal
half-holiday--they remembered its forced mirth and its hidden anxiety;
and as the hours flew by the suspicion that Annie Forest was the author
of all the mischief grew and deepened. A school is like a little world,
and popular opinion is apt to change with great rapidity. Annie was
undoubtedly the favorite of the school; but favorites are certain to have
enemies, and there were several girls unworthy enough and mean enough to
be jealous of poor Annie's popularity. She was the kind of girl whom only
very small natures could really dislike. Her popularity arose from the
simple fact that hers was a peculiarly joyous and unselfish nature. She
was a girl with scarcely any self-consciousness; those she loved, she
loved devotedly; she threw herself with a certain feverish impetuosity
into their lives, and made their interest her own. To get into mischief
and trouble for the sake of a friend was an every-day occurrence with
Annie. She was not the least studious; she had no one particular talent,
unless it was an untrained and birdlike voice; she was always more or
less in hot water about her lessons, always behindhand in her tasks,
always leaving undone what she should do, and doing what she should not
do. She was a contradictory, erratic creature--jealous of no one, envious
of no one--dearly loving a joke, and many times inflicting pain from
sheer thoughtlessness, but always ready to say she was sorry, always
ready to make friends again.
It is strange that such a girl as Annie should have enemies, but she had,
and in the last few weeks the feeling of jealousy and envy which had
always been smoldering in some breasts took more active form. Two reasons
accounted for this: Hester's openly avowed and persistent dislike to
Annie, and Miss Russell's declared conviction that she was under-bred and
not a lady.
Miss Russell was the only girl in the first class who had hitherto given
wild little Annie a thought.
In the first class, to-day, Annie had to act the unpleasing part of the
wicked little heroine. Miss Russell was quite certain of Annie's guilt;
she and her companions condescended to discuss poor Annie and to pull all
her little virtues to pieces, and to magnify her sins to an alarming
extent.
After two or three hours of judicious conversation, Dora Russell and most
of the other first-class girls decided that Annie ought to be expelled,
and unanimously resolved that they, at least, would do what they could to
"send her to Coventry."
In the lower part of the school Annie also had a few enemies, and these
girls, having carefully observed Hester's attitude toward her, now came
up close to this dignified little lady, and asked her boldly to declare
her opinion with regard to Annie's guilt.
Hester, without the least hesitation, assured them that "of course Annie
had done it."
"There is not room for a single doubt on the subject," she said;
"there--look at her now."
At this instant Annie was leaving Cecil's compartment, and with red eyes,
and hair, as usual, falling about her face, was running out of the
play-room. She seemed in great distress; but, nevertheless, before she
reached the door, she stopped to pick up a little girl of five, who was
fretting about some small annoyance. Annie took the little one in her
arms, kissed her tenderly, whispered some words in her ear, which caused
the little face to light up with some smiles and the round arms to clasp
Annie with an ecstatic hug. She dropped the child, who ran back to play
merrily with her companions, and left the room.
The group of middle-class girls still sat on by the fire, but Hester
Thornton now, not Annie, was the center of attraction. It was the first
time in all her young life that Hester had found herself in the enviable
position of a favorite; and without at all knowing what mischief she was
doing, she could not resist improving the occasion, and making the most
of her dislike for Annie.
Several of those who even were fond of Miss Forest came round to the
conviction that she was really guilty, and one by one, as is the fashion
not only among school girls but in the greater world outside, they began
to pick holes in their former favorite. These girls, too, resolved that,
if Annie were really so mean as maliciously to injure other girls'
property and get them into trouble, she must be "sent to Coventry."
"What's Coventry?" asked one of the little ones, the child whom Annie had
kissed and comforted, now sidling up to the group.
"Oh, a nasty place, Phena," said Mary Bell, putting her arm round the
pretty child and drawing her to her side.
"And who is going there?"
"Why, I am afraid it is naughty Annie Forest."
"She's not naughty! Annie sha'n't go to any nasty place. I hate you, Mary
Bell." The little one looked round the group with flashing eyes of
defiance, then wrenched herself away to return to her younger companions.
"It was stupid of you to say that, Mary," remarked one of the girls.
"Well," she continued, "I suppose it is all settled, and poor Annie, to
say the least of it, is not a lady. For my own part, I always thought her
great fun, but if she is proved guilty of this offense I wash my hands of
her."
"We all wash our hands of her," echoed the girls, with the exception of
Susan Drummond, who, as usual, was nodding in her chair.
"What do you say, Susy?" asked one or two; "you have not opened your lips
all this time."
"I--eh?--what?" asked Susan, stretching herself and yawning, "oh, about
Annie Forest--I suppose you are right, girls. Is not that the tea-gong?
I'm awfully hungry."
Hester Thornton went into the tea-room that evening feeling particularly
virtuous, and with an idea that she had distinguished herself in some
way.
Poor foolish, thoughtless Hester, she little guessed what seed she had
sown, and what a harvest she was preparing for her own reaping by-and-by.