"Oh, don't, please don't, Miss Steele!" said I. "I'll be here to the
second, in future, I promise."
"All right," said she, with a smile, and the subject dropped.
This dreadful threat kept me up to the mark for the next few weeks, but
even it lost its terrors in time, and my preceptress had to apply the
spur in other ways as the time went on.
Once, after I had been particularly slack, and had, moreover, been so
rude to her that she ended the lesson abruptly, I thought it was all up.
For, when I presented myself next day, I was informed by the servant
that Miss Steele was busy, and had no time to see me.
I was locked out! My dismay knew no bounds. Suppose she had "chucked"
me altogether, what would become of my chance of getting into Low Heath?
I retired home in great perturbation, and confided the state of the case
to my mother, who advised me there and then to sit down and write an
apology.
I had never done such a thing in my life. Once I had verbally begged
Tempest's pardon for some error; but to commit myself in writing to a
girl!
"My dear Miss Steele," I wrote,--"I'm sorry. Yours truly, T. Jones."
"That will do very well," said my mother. "It's not too long, at the
same time it says what you want to say."
I wasn't altogether pleased with it myself, but allowed the maid to take
it up to the school, with instructions to wait for an answer.
In due time she returned with a missive from Miss Steele.
"My dear Jones,--To-morrow as usual. Yours truly, M. Steele."