THE GREAT FIGHT
Margaret was quite sorry when Bob departed on Monday morning to
school, for although nothing further was said to assure her, his
attitude towards her was evidently changed, and she believed she was
now upon a friendly footing with the boy, and at least one of the
difficulties of Oaklands was partially overcome.
The days that intervened before his return upon the following
Saturday were not of the happiest. She determined to insist upon her
charge having special hours for study, and for recreation, and this
meant a struggle of wills. Ellice had hitherto had her own way
entirely, and any curtailing of that met strenuous opposition.
Monday morning was a lesson in patience to Margaret. Ellice came
willingly to the schoolroom, and condescended (for that was her
attitude) to give her mind to lessons for about half an hour. For
that length of time she seemed docility itself. Bob's words as to
her ignorance had rankled in her mind; the child was full of pride,
and the idea of possibly being looked down upon as an ignoramus later
on was a detestable thought. But half an hour every morning, she had
determined, would be sufficient for her concentration.
She worked busily and happily at first, and showed an intelligence
which pleased her teacher; then she grew a little restless, and cast
furtive glances at the clock. Margaret noticed the slackening of
attention, but made no remark. An hour and a half she thought would
be sufficient for the first week's morning's work: with such an
undisciplined pupil it might be wise to go slowly.
Suddenly Ellice threw down her book.
"It's ten, Miss Woodford. I've done enough for this morning. I
don't want to do any more."
"Oh, you've only just begun!" said Margaret quietly. "You started at
half-past nine; at eleven we will put the lessons away, and go into
the woods, or orchard, as you like."
"I know I'm not going to work until eleven," was the impertinent
reply.
Jumping up from her seat, the child made for the door. But her
governess was too quick for her. Margaret had been fully on the
alert for a possible attempted escape, and in a moment she
intercepted the flight.
"I am sorry, Ellice, but you cannot go yet," she said firmly. "Sit
down, child, and make the best of it; only an hour more, and you will
be free."
For the second time in her life astonishment bereft Ellice of speech
for a few seconds, then her indignation vented itself in words as she
stamped her feet in her rage.
"I hate you!--I hate you! I will go out when I want to!' she
stormed, tears of passion shining in her eyes, and sobs half choking
her.
"Stop that noise at once, Ellice," said Miss Woodford. "I am ashamed
of you. Sit down, and understand you will remain here for one hour
longer as I said; but unless you obey me now, it will be two."
With an abandonment of temper the little girl flung herself into a
chair, throwing her arms across the table and hiding her
tear-scorched face in her hands. There was still the sound of
suppressed, gasping sobs, which gradually died down into silence. It
almost appeared that, wearied out with her own temper, she had fallen
asleep.
No sound now disturbed the quiet of the schoolroom, but the tick-tock
of the clock on the mantelshelf. Margaret remained silent,
apparently reading. Presently she glanced up at the time, laid her
book down, and, rising quietly, went and stood by her pupil. Unshed
tears glimmered in her eyes as she looked down upon the child whose
uncontrolled temper meant such misery to herself.
"Girlie," she said softly, "it is almost eleven, but before you go, I
want to ask you to forgive me for being, as you think, unkind and
nasty. Listen, Ellice. When your mother engaged me to come here as
your governess, she offered me a salary in exchange for giving so
many hours a day to teaching you. I agreed to her wishes, and I
should not be honourable if I took her money and did not fulfil my
promise to do the very best I could for you--can you understand that?"
"But I don't want to be taught," muttered the child; "I can teach
myself when I am older."
"If you were allowed to do as you wish, you would find presently,
when you were growing up, you would be despised by all the other
girls of education, because of your ignorance; you would be behind
them probably in everything. I don't think you would like that.
From what I have seen of you, I believe you would want to be first
rather than last. Isn't that so?"
A half-murmured assent greeted this last.
"Can't you see, child, I want to help you? But you must be willing,
and try too if we are to succeed. How proud your dear father will be
if his daughter grows up bright and intelligent, and is able to be a
companion to him some day! He cares ever so much about that; he has
told me so."
A slight movement indicated Ellice was listening.
"There is something else he cares about; he wants you to grow up
sweet and gentle, and to get over these selfish ways--do you know,
trying to please and help others always makes people happier than
trying to please themselves. You do it, and see. It just makes
people love you. Then there is one other thing I want to say; you
are very fond of flowers. I know you look at the garden when you go
out, and bury your face in the sweetness of the lavender bed, and
smell the fragrance of the roses. Just think how God loved you when
He made the flowers so sweet to please you--and gave you your garden
and the woods and everything nice you love best. You remember the
hymn you sing sometimes:
"'All things bright and beautiful,
The great God made them all.'
"_All_ things--and for you--and in His word to us He sends you this
message--this morning: '_Study to show yourself a workman approved of
God._' He has done so much for us, dear--He has given us every good
thing we possess. He came to this earth to die for us--to win our
love and our allegiance, and He asks us to show our gratitude by
making a life-study of how to prove our love to Him, as good workmen.
He wants our best. Ellice, shall we both make up our minds to try to
give Him that always, to fight against our tempers, our selfishness;
to do even the dry lessons as well as we can, to please Him? I have
to try too--all the grown-up people who love Him have to fight this
battle with self. It is difficult sometimes, and we often fail, but
God has promised to give us His Holy Spirit, to enable us to be brave
and strong to do good, if we ask Him."
Margaret paused a moment as she gently stroked the child's bowed head
with her hand. Then:
"Ask Him now, darling, to help you all your life to be a workman
approved of God."
Again there was silence. The old clock ticked those precious moments
away, but at the same time registered a child's desire for a nobler
life.
The lesson-time was over as the hour struck. Lesson books had not,
after all, played a great part in the morning's work; but was not
something learned of greater worth?
"Off you go," said Margaret brightly, and, pressing a light kiss upon
the tumbled curls, she turned and went out quietly, leaving her
charge to her own devices.
When they afterwards met at luncheon, all traces of the storm were
past, and Ellice chatted responsively to the governess she had
intended earlier to hate for ever and ever.