VII.
_A MISFORTUNE._
As the two children talked, Gracie had been putting a few stitches inher mat.
"I b'lieve I'll do it," she said. "I'll tell Maggie we _all_ want herto be May Queen."
"Then she'll know you've said something about it," said Hattieanxiously, feeling that this proceeding was likely to bring her intotrouble.
"No, she needn't," said Gracie; "perhaps she does think I don't wanther to be, 'cause at Christmas she knew I was mad about it."
"Are you going to beg her pardon?" asked Hattie.
"No," said Gracie, with one of her scornful tosses of her head. "Ithink I see myself doing such a thing! But I can write her a littlenote, and tell her we are all sorry because she won't be May Queen, andbeg her to change her mind. I might do as much as that for Maggie," sheadded to herself.
Hattie tried to dissuade her no longer, and Gracie laid the mat downupon her desk, opened the lid, and took out a slip of paper and a pen.She dipped the pen in the ink, wrote, "My dear Maggie," at the top ofthe sheet, and then paused, biting the top of her pen.
"I can't think what to say, or how to begin it," she said. "My dearMaggie, I am very sorry--no. I had better say _we_--we are very sorrythat you--that you--oh, pshaw! I've a great mind not to do it"--hereshe dipped her pen in the ink again, and so carelessly that it cameforth quite too full. "Oh, bother!" she exclaimed with increasingill-humor; "look at this hateful pen;" and, forgetting the preciouspiece of work which lay so near at hand, she gave a careless fillip tothe pen which spattered forth the ink.
Gracie gave another impatient exclamation, and pushed away the paper,saying,--
"I shan't do it; if Maggie likes to be so foolish about nothing, shejust can;" but she did not see the extent of the mischief she had donetill Hattie said in a tone of great dismay,--
"O Gracie! just see what you've done!"
And there upon her beautiful mat was a great spot of ink.
Gracie gave a horrified little cry, and, snatching up the mat,thoughtlessly sopped up the spot with her handkerchief, therebyspreading and smearing it till it grew to the size of a two-cent piece,and left an ugly blotch on the bright blue worsted.
"What shall I do? oh! what shall I do? It's spoiled; it's quitespoiled!" she said despairingly.
"I don't believe it is; maybe it can be taken out," said Hattie, thoughshe was almost as much startled as her little companion. "I'll bringsome water, and we'll try to take it out."
"No, no," said Gracie; "I wish I had not touched it at all. We'll onlymake it worse; and I'll ask mamma to try as soon as I go home. Oh,dear, dear, dear! what shall I do? Grandmamma will surely say Nellie'sis the best now. That hateful girl!"
"It's a great shame if she does," said Hattie. "Nellie is always tryingto get ahead of you; and she don't deserve it, and I don't think yourgrandmamma is fair to you. She ought to think her own grandchild's workis the best."
"I suppose Nellie will just be glad when she sees what has happened tome," said Gracie, whose jealous eyes could now see nothing that wasgood or fair in Nellie's conduct.
Innocent, kind-hearted Nellie, who would not willingly harbor an unkindor unjust thought of another!
"I shan't let her see it," she continued, hastily rolling up the matand putting it into her desk, as she heard the other children coming."Don't say a word about it, Hattie, not to any one."
Hattie promised, really grieving herself for Gracie's misfortune, forshe truly loved her, and was anxious that she should be the first.
This was to be a black day for Gracie; but all through her own jealousyand pride.
Her mind was so taken up with the remembrance of the defaced mat thatshe could not keep her thoughts upon her lessons; and, although she hadknown her history very well, her attention wandered so much that sheanswered incorrectly more than once.
Seeing, however, that something had disturbed her, Miss Ashton madeallowances, and gave her one or two opportunities to correct herselfand bring her thoughts back to the task before her.
But it was all in vain; Gracie had already lost her place in thespelling-class, and gone down below Dora Johnson and Laura Middleton;and now the fear of a fresh mortification, and of giving Nellie herplace at the head of the history class added to her confusion, and shefloundered more and more hopelessly. Nellie begged too that she mighthave still another chance, when at last Miss Ashton passed the questionto her; but again Gracie failed and was obliged to yield her place.
Angry, mortified, and jealous, Gracie showed such determined ill-tempertowards her generous little classmate, that Miss Ashton was obliged toreprove her, but without effect.
Again she called Gracie to order, and this time more severely.
The angry and wilful child hesitated for one moment, then pride andpassion burst all bounds, and she answered Miss Ashton with suchinsolence, such ungoverned and unjustifiable impertinence that thewhole class stood aghast.
There was a moment's perfect stillness. Miss Ashton turned very pale,and laying her book down upon the table, covered her face with herhand, while the children looked from her to Gracie and back again, inutter dismay and astonishment.
Then the stillness was broken by a piteous, "Oh, dear!" from poorlittle Belle, who finished with a burst of tears, and her example wasfollowed by more than one of the others.
Miss Ashton raised her head.
"Go into the cloak-room, Grace," she said quietly.
Gracie was herself frightened at what she had done; but her prideand temper were still farther roused by the shocked and disapprovinglooks of her schoolmates, and she stood for an instant with determinedstubbornness, while the words, "I won't," formed themselves upon herlips.
But they were not uttered, for there was something in Miss Ashton'sface which checked her; something which not one of the little flock hadever seen before; and when the lady repeated her words in the same calmtone,--
"Go into the cloak-room," Gracie turned away and obeyed.
It was with head held high, and scornful look, however, that she passedout, although bitter shame and regret were burning in the poor, foolishlittle heart. But she called up all her pride and jealousy to stiflethe better feeling which urged her to run to her teacher, and, in theface of the whole school, confess her fault, and beg Miss Ashton'spardon for the insulting words she had spoken.
"What will she do, I wonder," she said to herself; "will she tellmamma? What will mamma say, and papa too?" and, as the recollection ofher parents' oft-repeated warnings against the pride and vanity whichwere her besetting sins came back to her mind, she could not but feelthat this was the consequence of allowing them to gain such a hold uponher.
She _felt_ it, for conscience would make itself heard; but she wouldnot acknowledge it even to herself, and drowned the reproving whisperwith such thoughts as,--
"Well, then, why is Miss Ashton so unjust? She is always trying to makeme miss and lose my place. She is always glad when any one goes aboveme. She never praises me as much as I deserve;" and such unjust anduntrue accusations.
It might be that Miss Ashton did not always bestow upon Gracie all thepraise she would have given to another for a perfect lesson or goodcomposition, for she did not think much praise good for her, as it onlyseemed to minister to Gracie's over-weening vanity. But only eyes thatwere wilfully blind and suspicious could find the slightest injusticeor unkindness in her treatment of any one of her little scholars, andher gentleness and patience might have won gratitude from the moststubborn young heart.
But Gracie would not listen to the promptings of her better spirit; andthe recollection of the dismayed and averted looks of her schoolmatesadded fuel to the flame of her angry pride. Even the ever admiringHattie had looked shocked at her outburst.
"I don't care," she said again to herself. "It's only 'cause they knowI am so much cleverer than any of them, and they are jealous of me.That hateful Nellie! She was so proud to go above me."
Wretched and unhappy, she spent the time in her solitu
de till the closeof school, when the other children came into the cloak-room for theirhats.
No one said a word to her, for they had been forbidden to do so; andif they had occasion to speak to one another they did so in whispers,as if something terrible had happened, and a great awe had fallen uponthem. She sat in a corner, sullen and defiant, trying to put on anappearance of the utmost indifference, but succeeding very poorly. Sheeven tried to hum a tune, but something rose in her throat and chokedher. She scarcely knew what to do; whether or no to rise, and take herhat, and go down as usual to find the nurse, who was probably waitingfor her below; and while she sat hesitating, one and another of heryoung companions passed out, as if glad to hurry from her presence, andshe was left once more alone.
She had just taken down her hat, when Miss Ashton came in, and, handingher a note, said gravely,--
"Give this to your mother, Gracie," and left her again.
Ashamed and alarmed at the thought of what might follow when she shouldreach home, but with her pride and anger not one whit abated, Graciewent slowly on, giving short and snappish answers to the inquiries ofher nurse, who plainly saw that something was wrong.
But she dared not face her mother when she should hear of hermisconduct; and when they entered the house, she thrust the note intothe hand of the maid, bidding her give it to Mrs. Howard, and ranquickly up to her own little room.
There she stayed, wondering and waiting. Five, ten, fifteen, twentyminutes, half an hour passed away, and still her mamma did not come.
Was it possible? could she really hope that the note had not been oneof complaint of her conduct?
No, that could never be; there was the bell for the children's earlydinner. Well, she would go down and act as if nothing had happened. Butcould she with this uncertainty of how much or how little mamma knew?
But there was mamma's step, and now Mrs. Howard entered the room. Onehalf glance at her face and Gracie's eyes fell. It was enough to showher that her mother knew all.
"Mean old thing!" she said to herself, meaning Miss Ashton. "She's goneand told, and now I s'pose I'll be punished."
"Gracie," said her mother, "I suppose you scarcely need to be told whatis in this note which Miss Ashton has sent me."
Gracie stood with head erect, pouting lip, and defiant eyes, idlytossing back and forth the tassel of the window curtain with as muchindifference as she could assume.
"Has it come to this, my child," continued Mrs. Howard sorrowfully,"that you have allowed conceit and self-will to gain such a hold uponyou, that you could wilfully and deliberately insult your teacher? Ihave been sure that you would fall into trouble, Gracie, for I knewthat such foolish pride must sooner or later have a fall, but I couldnot have believed that you would be guilty of this. What did you say toMiss Ashton?"
"I don't care," said Gracie passionately, without directly answeringher mother's question. "It was all true, every word of it. She's ashateful as she can be, and unjust and mean;" and Gracie went on,pouring forth a torrent of invective and reproach against Miss Ashtonand Nellie Ransom, without paying the slightest heed to her mother'scommands to be silent. It was the long pent-up feeling of jealousy andill-will and pride, that she had been nourishing for months past, andwhich now burst all bounds and swept every thing before it.
Respect, and even obedience towards her mother, reason, justice,and truth itself were totally lost sight of, as she poured forthaccusation after accusation against the offenders, and upheld her ownconduct in all she had done and said.
"And you have said all this to Miss Ashton, perhaps?" said her mothersternly, when the angry child at last came to a pause.
"It is true enough if I did," muttered Gracie again, though her passionwas by this time beginning to cool down in a measure. "I'm sure I wishI never went to her hateful old school."
"It is more than probable that Miss Ashton wishes so now; but Ishall leave you to think over what you have said to me and to MissAshton, and to find out how much of it is true. One thing Miss Ashtondesires,--that you do not return to her school till you are ready toacknowledge your fault, and to apologize for your impertinence. Anduntil this is the case, you must remain in your room. Your meals willbe sent to you, and I shall not allow your brothers and sisters to haveany intercourse with you till you are ready to make such amends asyou can. You may send for me when you have any thing to say to me. Oh,Gracie, Gracie!"
With which words, spoken in a sad, despondent tone, Mrs. Howard wentaway, closing the door upon her stubborn, rebellious little daughter.
Gracie stood where her mother had left her, not one whit softened orhumbled; for now her angry pride began to accuse her mother also ofinjustice and partiality and unkindness.
"Everybody in the world takes part against me," she said to herself;"but I don't care. Indeed, I won't beg Miss Ashton's pardon, not if Istay here a year. Mamma makes such a fuss about her being so kind andpatient and all that. She's paid for teaching me, so it's nothing sowonderfully good. I hope I never will go back to the school where thathateful Nellie is."
Soon the door opened, and the nurse appeared, bearing a tray on whichwas Gracie's dinner. She set it upon a table, placed a chair, and wentaway without a word to her.
"I don't care," said Gracie once more, "no one need talk to me if theydon't want to. I'm just as good as they are, and I'd just as lief stayhere by myself."
She sat down before the dinner-tray, trying to believe that she would"just as lief eat her dinner alone;" but she found it was not soagreeable after all. She wondered what they were doing downstairs; ifthe children were chattering as merrily as usual, or if her absencemade any difference in the family enjoyment. She had little appetite,as may be supposed, and left the nicely served meal scarcely touched.
But it must not be thought that she had any idea of yielding oracknowledging herself in the wrong. By and by she heard her brothersand sisters coming upstairs, then their voices in the nursery as theyprattled to one another; and she knew that they were being made readyfor their afternoon airing. Then tiny feet pattered along the hall,and little May's voice sounded through her closed door,--
"Am oo dood now, Dacie? We'm doin out, Dacie; am oo most dood? Peasedon't be naughty dirl, Dacie," and the soft little hand tapped upon thepanel as the baby voice pleaded.
"Come away, darling. Gracie may come out when she is good and says sheis sorry," said mamma's voice; and Gracie knew that her mother had ledthe little pet away.
But all this only seemed to harden her. May was such a darling, thesweetest and dearest of all her brothers and sisters, Gracie thought;and, although the sweet, coaxing voice had touched her, she only foundin her mother's interference fresh cause of offence.
"Mamma tries to set even May against me, and I s'pose she's beentelling all the children what I did," she thought; "but I don't care.I believe they'll grow tired of having me away before I am tired ofstaying here. There's plenty for me to do. I can read, and I'll work onmy mat."
But here it suddenly flashed upon her that she had not brought her mathome with her. Being sent away in disgrace and not returning to theschool-room before leaving, she had quite forgotten it, and it stilllay there in her desk. And that stain upon it, too, which she hadintended to ask her mother to take out if possible. Mamma would notfeel like doing it for her now, and she could ask no favors from her.Not unless she repented and--and--apologized to Miss Ashton. And thislast she would not do; no, never, never.
She heard the children going downstairs, stood at the window andwatched them get into the carriage and drive away with mamma, and beganto wish that she were there too. And such a lovely afternoon, it wastoo bad to be shut up here. But still she never blamed herself for herimprisonment; no, mamma, Miss Ashton, Nellie, any one was in the wrong,but not her own wilful, stubborn little self. What was to be the end ofthis she did not know, but Gracie had no thought of yielding.
She whiled away the afternoon as she best could; but every thing seemedto have lost its zest. Her prettiest story-books had n
o interest;her dolls were "stupid" and poor company; even her stock of prettymaterials for articles for the fair seemed less attractive than usualas she turned them over, and her work "would not go."
This was the first time in her life that Gracie had ever been punishedin such a manner; and apart from the disgrace, which she was determinednot to feel, she was a child who was fond of society and did not knowhow to bear being deprived of it.
Jessie's Parrot Page 7
