Janet had as pretty a little temper of her own as you could meet
anywhere. It flashed up in a moment into her eyes. No one, schoolgirl or
otherwise, was likely to get a cheap bargain of this little governess.
She rose, and, turning the key in the door as she passed, walked up to
the table at which Miss Julia sat with her book. The girl was not aware
that her own absolute immovability proved to her antagonist that she was
not absorbed in her book but in the battle which had begun. Miss
Summerhayes stood opposite to her for a moment looking down upon Julia’s
bent head. She felt the key of the door in her pocket, which, perhaps,
was rather a desperate step so early in the fight; as in doing this she
had at once burnt her ships, and committed herself to a policy of
absolute no-surrender; but still it inspired her, for she could now
neither draw back nor temporize.
“Julia! I have told you three times that it is ten o’clock, and I am
waiting to begin lessons.”
There was still not a movement, not a sound. Julia sat as if made of
stone. Then Janet made the great _coup_ she had been contemplating. With
a sudden swift movement she took the book from under the reader’s bent
face, closed it, and carried it away. In a moment Julia was erect,
getting to her feet with a bound, her gray eyes dilating into great
globes of gold, her spring like that of a tiger. Janet had scarcely
time, though her movements were very quick, to get back to the shelter
of her arm-chair. But she managed to do so, and to lock up the offending
volume in a drawer, with Julia’s grip on her shoulder, and a shriek of
“How dare you, how dare you!” ringing in her ears.
“Miss Summerhayes! give me back my book. How dare you take my book? Give
it me this moment--do you hear me! do you hear me!” cried the girl,
passionately, holding Janet’s shoulders in a grasp of steel.
“I hear you perfectly well--as you heard me just now. Take your hands
from my shoulders. I did not touch you; if we are to fight, let us fight
fair.”
Julia’s hands dropped, and a shade of consternation came over her eyes.
Then she stamped her foot violently upon the floor--“Miss Summerhayes,
give me back my book?”
“Sit down,” said Janet, not uncheerfully, “and we can have it out.”
“Give me back my book!”
“Well,” said Janet, “now we have both got through that formula, _trois
sommations_--though I am afraid not very _respectueuses_. Do you know
what that means? I called you three times and you have called me three
times. We are equal, so far. Now sit down and let us talk it out.”
“Equal!” said Julia, with a shriek, “me and you, Miss Summerhayes! You
are only the governess--that’s no better than a servant. You may suppose
they think different downstairs, because of their way of talking, and
because Gussy thinks it’s grand to be like that. But they think just the
same. And mamma will stand up for me. She pretends she wants me to be
mastered, but she doesn’t, and you’ll find the difference when you go to
her with your complaints.”
“But I don’t mean to go to her with any complaints,” said Janet, putting
on the best smile she could. “If we are to get on, we must manage it
between ourselves; if not, there is a very easy remedy for me. You had
better sit down, and discuss the matter, so that we may know what we are
about.”
“What’s your remedy?” cried Julia, breathing hard.
“It will be quite effectual, as far as I am concerned: but I don’t like
to be beaten, so I shall try some others first. Sit down there.”
“I shan’t,” Miss Julia said.
“Well, stand on your head then,” said Janet, “perhaps you may like that
better: only let us get all the necessary tricks over, and come to
business, for it may as well be decided once for all.”
“How dare you talk of tricks! What do you call my tricks?”
“They are quite easy to describe. To pretend to be deaf, dumb, and
blind; to pretend to be a wild beast; to shriek and snort and talk loud.
I don’t know what others you may still have to get through, but you must
know as well as I do that all these are tricks, and of no consequence.
When they are exhausted, then we can begin to talk.”
“Me a wild beast! Me of no consequence! I should like,” cried Julia,
with her eyes blazing like red-hot flames, and her fingers clasping and
unclasping, “just to give it you hot, for once! just to stamp upon you,
and tear off your fal-lals and pitch you out of the window!”
Janet nodded her head at each threat, not by way of approbation, but of
acquiescence as in an argument she had foreseen.
“I know,” she said, “I told you so. It would be a great saving of time
if you would consider all that sort of thing as said, and come to the
real question.”
“What is the real question?” said Julia, staring, with her hands
grasping the top of the chair on which she had been requested to sit
down--whether because she was checked in her childish rage, or whether
because she meant to use it as a weapon, it was difficult to say.
“The real question is, whether we are to be able to get on together or
not. It’s the only one of any importance. I want to come to that.”
“What an awful fool you must be,” said Julia, bending over the back of
the chair towards Janet with flaming looks of wrath.
“Yes,” said Janet. “One of us is so, that is very evident: but why
should it strike you at this moment?”
“To think that it isn’t settled already, to think I would ever give in
to you for a moment. Knuckle under! me! Oh! you think you can come over
me with smiling, when you are in as blue a funk---- You, a bit of a
governess hired just like the housemaid: and that’s exactly what mamma
will say.”
Janet yawned a little in the girl’s furious face, a gentle little yawn
which did not at all distort her own countenance.
“My poor child,” she said, “if you would only consider that I understand
all that, and that we’d so much better come to business! You can’t
frighten me, and though, of course, you can insult me, that’s of equally
little use, for I don’t care.”
“Because you’re used to it,” cried Julia.
“No--once only before. It was a tramp on the road, an old woman, and I
would not give her any money. It is curious to think where you can have
learned the same sort of thing--brought up, I suppose, more or less like
a lady--but it must be in the blood.”
“Do you mean to say I’m not a lady--you--? Oh-h!” for Janet had gently
shrugged those little shoulders which still felt the young fury’s grip.
“I’ll go,” cried Julia, fiercely, “I’ll go this moment and tell mamma.”
Janet sat quietly in her chair awaiting the discovery of the locked
door, and somewhat alarmed lest there should ensue a physical struggle
which would be undignified and unladylike. Then followed a whirlwind of
noise, stamping, shrieking, and wild talk.
“Give me the key! Open the door! I want to go to mamma. Mamma! Let me
out. Let me out! I want to open the door,”--then a furious kick upon the
panel. “Mamma! Gussy! I’m locked in; come, come, and open the door.”
“It is a pity that all the servants should know you are in trouble,
Julia. Let it remain between you and me,” said Janet, laying her hand
upon the girl’s shoulder.
“Open the door!”
“No, I shall not open the door--nor shall anyone else, if I can help it.
Let this remain between you and me.”
“Mamma will send and order you to do it. Mamma! mamma! I am locked in. I
can’t get out. Come and open the door!”
How it was that no one heard these outcries Janet could not imagine: but
they were at the top of the house: the kitchen was thoroughly occupied
with its own affairs, and Mrs. Harwood, as she found out afterwards, had
been wheeled out for her morning airing, so that silence alone replied
to Julia’s passionate appeals. She rushed to the window and flung it
open, but the gardener was not visible in the garden. After half-an-hour
of tumult, an enforced silence fell upon the school-room. But Julia was
not yet overcome.
“I shall keep you here all your life--you shan’t go--not a step. If I am
to be shut in, you shall be shut in too. You shall have no lunch; you
shall have no tea; you shall have no dinner!” said Julia, _crescendo_,
rising to a climax.
“Well,” said Janet, “if you think it better to put off our conversation
till to-morrow, I make no objection. It will be very uncomfortable--but
there are worse things than discomfort in this world. I have done
without my dinner before now.”
“Yes! often, I shouldn’t wonder--when you had nobody to give you a
dinner,” cried Julia.
Janet looked at the furious girl with a glance of astonishment in her
eyes. She laughed a little.
“You silly child,” she said.
And then in the midst of the agitation and tumult there occurred a
moment of quiet. Julia was at the end of her resources. She was worn out
with her own passion, dismayed by being thus left to the tender mercies
of the governess, and discouraged beyond description by the indifference
and contempt of the stranger whom she had been so certain of subduing--a
little thing not so big as herself, a little governess without a
friend--a subject creature whom it was safe for everybody to jump upon.
Julia’s experience contained no stronger picture of the governess than
that of the one who ran away next morning after complaining to Mrs.
Harwood that she was not accustomed to such young ladies. The others had
all coaxed and cringed and endeavored to temporize.
Julia went and sat down panting at the other table, and watched this new
kind of human being seated in the middle of the room as if nothing had
happened, calmly writing, not a hair turned upon her head, not a bit of
frill crumpled about her neck. It was natural to Janet to be neat, and
her self-control was wonderful. Besides, of course she knew that she was
being looked at, watched with all the keen observation of a vindictive
child to see where her weakness lay. That she had supported this
struggle so long without moments of weakness it would be vain to
say--that she had not felt the stings and resented the blows. Her heart
had beat as if it was bursting from her breast. She had felt herself
trembling all over with excitement and alarm. But she had managed
somehow to keep calm all along, and she was still calm now, keeping in
her breath, holding herself with all her might to look indifferent.
Julia’s observation was keen, but not so keen as to pierce Janet’s
armour of mail. The girl sat staring at her with eyes that became less
and less like orbs of flame, and more like ordinary big gray eyes with a
golden glow. And Janet wrote a letter. It was the only thing she could
think of to give her the support of an occupation. She wrote a narrative
of what had passed, writing “Dear Mrs. Bland” at the top to give herself
a countenance, though the last thing in the world she would have done
was to send the vicar’s wife such a description of her first day in her
new situation. She smiled, however, to herself involuntarily as she went
on with her story, making it very amusing. And Julia saw her smile, and
something like awe came over the exhausted spirit of the little rebel.
To go through all that, one tithe of which would have broken the spirit
of any other governess, and yet to smile!
After a long interval of silence, and when Janet began to wonder with
some alarm how she would meet a long strain of passive resistance had
Julia strength of mind to keep it up, a sudden voice once more made
itself heard.
“Miss Summerhayes! the first thing I shall do when I get out of this
will be to tell mamma.”
“That is exactly what I should recommend,” said Janet, looking up from
her writing; “one’s mother should always know everything,” and with a
little friendly nod she returned to her letter.
Julia could not tell what to think: there was more in it than her
puzzled understanding had ever encountered before. After a while she
said, with some hesitation, “Miss Summerhayes!” again.
“Yes,” said Janet, looking up once more.
“What did you mean about conversation? I hate you! I shall never speak
to you three words if I can help it; but what did you mean about putting
off the conversation? I want to know----”
“Perhaps it will be better to put it off till to-morrow.”
“I want to have it now. Conversation! as if there ever could be any
between you and me.”
“That is what I have just said. It will be better to put it off,” said
Janet, without raising her head, turning over the page of her supposed
letter.
The next thing she heard was a stamp on the floor, suppressed so that it
was scarcely a stamp, and an exclamation,
“I prefer to have it now.”
“I cannot talk to anyone so far off,” said Janet, and there was another
pause.
Presently she could hear the faint rustling of a person about to get up
from a chair, which went on for some time, there being an evident and
great reluctance to move. Then there was a sudden plunge. Julia alighted
opposite her, on the other side of the table.
“I want to know what it is---- I want to know what you want with me.”
Janet sat up, raised her head, putting down her pen.
“Honestly, and without any more preliminaries?” she said.
Julia’s eyes gave a single dart of fire.
“No one ever said I was a thief. I want to know what you want with me.”
“That is what I call honestly,” Janet replied, and she put away her
writing things for the second encounter, the first having thus been
successful beyond her hopes.