SARAH BROWN SPEAKS HER MIND.
"Now where do you suppose they came from, Marion? I don't know of any
one round here who has a conservatory; they must have come from
Springfield. Who could have sent them?" asked Sarah Brown.
"I'm sure I don't know; aren't they lovely?" replied Marion; "but here
comes Miss Christine,--let's ask her. Miss Christine," she said, turning
round quickly as her teacher entered the room, "who sent you these
lovely flowers yesterday?"
Miss Christine started at the abrupt, point-blank question, and looked a
trifle confused:--
"Why, really, Marion, I--that is,--M. Béranger sent them here; but, as
the box had no address, I presume they were for the benefit of the whole
school. I certainly did not intend to monopolize them."
"No, of course you didn't, you dear old Christian!" exclaimed Marion
with the affectionate familiarity she often used towards her teacher;
"of course you didn't; and as they were meant for all of us, you won't
mind it a bit if I appropriate this little sprig of geranium, and do
just as I've a mind to with it, now will you?"
"No, I don't think I could refuse that, although it does seem a pity to
take it out of water. Why, Marion, what are you going to do with
it?--put it in my hair! No, no, it's too pretty, and it will wither in
such a little while; do take it out!"
"No, I shan't do any such a thing. You gave it to me to do just what I
chose with it, and I _choose_ to have it in your hair; so you must not
take it out."
"No, Miss Christine, don't!" exclaimed Sarah Brown. "You ought to keep
it in, even if it's only to please Marion, for most girls would have
stuck it in their own heads; but she never _says_ anything or _does_
anything like most girls."
"Hold your tongue, Sarah!" peremptorily replied Marion; "you don't know
what you're talking about."
"Yes, I do," replied Sarah, emphasizing every word with a shake of the
head. "I know perfectly well what I am talking about, and you know I
know it, and _I_ know I shan't know it much longer without letting
somebody else know it; so there!"
"Well, Sarah," said Miss Christine, who could not resist joining Marion
in a hearty laugh at Sarah's excited and rather incoherent sentence, "if
you and Marion know what you are talking about, that is certainly more
than I can say, and as it is never polite to allude to a secret in the
presence of a third party. I think I ought to be that somebody else,
whom you are 'to let know it;'" and Miss Christine shook her head in
laughing imitation of Sarah.
"Well, I'll tell you one thing, Miss Christine; it's about Marion's--"
"Sarah Brown, hold your tongue!" cried Marion, at the same time clapping
her hand over Sarah's mouth.
"Marion Berkley, I shan't!" cried Sarah, struggling to free herself, and
gasping out at intervals broken sentences perfectly unintelligible to
Miss Christine; then, as Marion loosed her hold, she shouted: "It's
about Marion's break-down! there!"
"Sarah Brown, you'll be sorry for this!" cried Marion, her eyes flashing
with indignation.
"Sarah! Marion!" exclaimed Miss Christine, looking from one to the
other in utter amazement. "I don't understand you at all; what is this
all about?"
"She doesn't know what she is talking about, and I think she had better
mind her own business!" exclaimed Marion.
"I do know what I'm talking about, and it's just as much my business as
it is any one else's; if it isn't, I'll make it so."
"Girls! girls! you cannot think how you grieve and astonish me. Do you
know how you are talking? Your language is unladylike in the extreme.
But"--turning to Sarah--"even that is not so unpardonable as the
thoughtlessness which could lead you to speak of Marion's failure last
night, when you know it must be extremely unpleasant for her to have it
alluded to in any way."
"Miss Christine, it's too bad for you to speak so to me," cried Sarah,
the tears now streaming down her cheeks, and her voice pitched to its
most excited tones. "You know I just worship Marion, only she won't let
me show it, and I never did an unkind thing to her in my life; but I
told her I should tell about the Polonaise, and so I will; no one shall
stop me!"
"Sarah, you forget to whom you are speaking," quietly replied Miss
Christine, adding as she glanced at Marion, and noticed that she stood
with her lips tightly compressed, "If you have the affection for Marion
which you profess, you will cease to speak of a subject which evidently
annoys her."
"Well, it has no business to annoy her, and I mean to tell every girl in
the school," retorted Sarah, now fairly beside herself; and raising her
voice until she fairly shouted, she called to the girls who were passing
the door, on the way to the library, "Come in here, girls! come in here,
every one of you! Yes, Georgie Graham, you too, I want you all. Now
listen to what I've got to say. You all thought Marion Berkley ought to
have been ashamed of herself to play the Polonaise when she knew Georgie
was going to play it; and you were all glad she broke down, because
almost all of you hate her, and are jealous of her because she's the
handsomest, and the smartest, and the very best girl in the school every
way; and because she doesn't say one thing to your back and another to
your face, the way most of you do; but I'll tell you why she played it.
She played it because that creature there--" pointing her finger at
Georgie, who happened to be the central figure in the group of
astonished listeners--"because that girl was in the anteroom
_listening_, _eaves-dropping_, as she always is, and knew all about the
musicale two weeks before any of us, and practised, and practised, by
stealth, just for no other reason than to show off before company, and
put Marion in the shade; and Marion played it just to punish Georgie for
that and fifty other mean things she's done. I suppose you think it was
hateful in Marion; but _I_ don't; I only just wish that for once she'd
had a little of Georgie's _brass_,--for _she's_ got enough for every
girl in the school,--and then she wouldn't have broken down. But I
haven't done yet," exclaimed the excited girl, after stopping to take
breath, "I haven't done yet; when Miss Christine told Marion how sorry
she was that Georgie should have played the piece she had chosen, Marion
told her the whole truth up and down. No, not the whole truth. She never
told about Georgie's listening to Miss Stiefbach; no, not a word! She
just told her she deserved to break down herself for having treated
Georgie so unkindly; and there aren't a dozen girls in the school but
what would have told on another to save herself. Now, who do you think
was the mean one, I should like to know?" and Sarah glanced round the
room with an air of triumph; then as suddenly changing her expression
to one of contempt, she exclaimed, "You needn't say anything. I know you
think just as Marion does, that I've been meddling in business that does
not concern me; but I don't care _that_ for one of you;" and, snapping
her fingers in the air, Sarah sat down in the nearest chair, completely
exhausted by her harangue.
"Young ladies! young ladies! what is the meaning of this noise?"
exclaimed Miss Stiefbach, in utter amazement, as she entered the room by
another door from that around which almost all the scholars were
crowded. "Why are you not at work in the library? Miss Christine,
explain the cause of this excitement."
Miss Christine, who had heretofore been completely overpowered by the
suddenness and volubility of Sarah's outbreak, saw at a glance that
something must be done at once to prevent her from going through the
whole again to Miss Stiefbach; for she dreaded the effect it might have
upon her sister, knowing that she would look upon the matter from her
cold, calculating point of view, and probably punish Sarah severely for
her disrespectful conduct, utterly ignoring the generous impulses which
had led to it. As for Georgie, when she hastily glanced at her, and saw
her usually haughty head hanging in shame and confusion, she felt that
for the present at least her punishment was sufficiently severe. So
stepping forward and laying her hand on Sarah's shoulder, at the same
time placing herself almost directly in front of her, she turned to Miss
Stiefbach and said:--
"Sarah has been rather disrespectful to me; but I do not think she was
intentionally rude. I shall have to send her to her own room to do her
mending by herself. The rest of the young ladies must go at once to the
library, and I will be with them, directly."
Miss Stiefbach made no reply, although it did not escape her keen eye
that more had been going on than she was made aware of; but she knew by
previous experience that there were times when Miss Christine's judgment
was wiser than her own. She turned towards the door, and with a
commanding gesture waved the girls out. Marion hesitated, and would have
held back, but Miss Stiefbach coldly remarked:--
"Marion, unless you, too, are in disgrace, you will please leave the
room;" and motioning her to lead the way sailed out of the parlor.
The instant they were gone Sarah threw her arms around her teacher's
neck and sobbed aloud.
"I could not help it, Sarah; indeed I could not," said Miss Christine
with a troubled voice as she stroked her pupil's hair; "it certainly was
very wrong of you to behave so, and if I had not sent you to your room I
should have had to tell Miss Stiefbach all about it, and I am afraid she
would have punished you more severely than I have."
"It isn't that, Miss Christine, it isn't that," sobbed Sarah. "I'd a
great deal rather go to my room; and you knew it when you sent me there.
It's about Marion; she said she'd never speak to me again if I told; she
didn't know I knew about it until this morning."
"Well, how did you know it, dear; did any one tell you?"
"No, and I wasn't listening either," exclaimed Sarah, raising her
flushed face; "but several of us knew how Georgie found out about the
musicale, and I noticed, just as Marion did, how much she had practised
the Polonaise, and last night I heard her tell one of the girls she was
glad Marion broke down, it just _did her good_; and I determined then
I'd pay her for it. I was standing very near you, though you did not
know it, when Marion told you all about it last night, and I thought it
was outrageous that she should bear all the blame; and before M.
Béranger too! It was a shame! But oh, dear, Miss Christine, it hasn't
done a bit of good! She'll just hate me now, I know she will, for she
almost made me promise not to tell."
"I cannot say I quite approve of your method of doing Marion justice,
but I hardly think she will be very severe to such a disinterested
little champion," said Miss Christine, who could not help smiling at the
utter wretchedness of Sarah's tone; "however, here she comes to speak
for herself."
"O Miss Christine, do come in there! I made an excuse to get me some
darning-cotton; but Miss Stiefbach's reading the most stupid book of
sermons; do come in and take her place! What!" as she caught sight of
Sarah, "is she here yet?"
"Yes, Marion, she is here, and is making herself perfectly miserable,
because she believes she has made you an enemy for life. Don't you think
you can convince her of the contrary?"
"O Marion!" sobbed Sarah, "please don't be mad with me, for I really
could not help it. I thought I was doing it all for your good, and when
I got started I _could_ not stop till I had it all out."
"You little bit of a goose! did you really think I was going to be angry
with you after making such a thrilling stump-speech in my favor?" and
throwing herself on her knees beside Sarah's chair, Marion looked up at
her with a smiling face, but with eyes not undimmed by tears.
"And you really think I did it from kindness?"
"Yes, I certainly do!"
"And you won't snub me any more?" cried Sarah, giving Marion a
passionate kiss.
"Oh, I can't promise you that," laughed Marion; "a little, healthy
snub, now and then, does you good, and I shouldn't be doing my duty if I
didn't give it to you, but"--and her voice assumed the tender,
affectionate tone so rarely heard by her school-mates, and which touched
Sarah even more than her words--"I shall never be really unkind to you
again, and I promise to love you as much as you wish."
"You really mean it, Marion? You really mean that you will love me?"
"Yes, I really mean it. Miss Christine shall be my witness that I have
this day gained a friend."
"Yes, my dear," answered Miss Christine, who had been a silent but
interested observer of this little scene: "and a truer one I do not
think you could have."