"What are you about, you dirty little thing?" exclaimed a voice from
behind me, at the same instant that I received a smart blow upon my
uplifted arm.
Covered with confusion, I turned, and beheld Mademoiselle Ermance, who
had surprised me in my singular occupation.
"What is the meaning of this nonsense?" said she, with unwonted
severity.
I had no time to explain. Just at that moment my schoolfellows came
trooping in. Georgette seeing me standing there, ink-stained and
disgraced, and already--the coquette!--forgetful of her promise,
exclaimed, with a face of disgust:--
"Oh, the dirty boy! The nasty, dirty boy!"
[Illustration: "WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS NONSENSE?"]
Everything, however, has its bright side. Mademoiselle Ermance's tap and
my own start of surprise, had jerked the ink-bottle from my grasp; my
yellow jacket was literally flooded! I was rid of it at last!
It was to Georgette that I owed this happy deliverance. I thank her for
it to-day! What has become, I wonder, of that lovely child? Does she
ever think now of those old times? How often have I dreamed of her! I
have forgiven her for the tears which she caused me to shed. Her
charming face dwells always in my mind as a pure ray from the bygone
light of youth. I am not her husband, and probably never shall be. I am
resigned to my fate, which I richly deserve, because--
_I did not drink the ink!_
_The Queer Side of Things._