Chapter 9. The Head-Mistress And The Cabbage-Rose

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_ CHAPTER IX. THE HEAD-MISTRESS AND THE CABBAGE-ROSE

Middleton School, which consisted of from six to seven hundred girls, was kept in a state of discipline not so much by punishments as by a very strict code of honor. There were certain things which no Middleton girl who respected herself would ever dream of doing. There were other things which she would do as a matter of course. For instance, she would uphold her school through thick and thin, allowing no outsider to run it down. To be a member of Middleton School insured her friendship with all the other girls in the school. The _esprit de corps_ of this celebrated day school was exceptionally strong. Even in after-life its members met as friends, never forgetting that they were at one time schoolfellows in one of the best and most thorough colleges of learning in the whole of England.

As the fees for instruction were necessarily low, and as the school was therefore open to all classes of girls, from the very rich to those who had but limited means, a rule, and a very strong one, was that all money and class distinctions were to be absolutely abolished. The girls, so long as they belonged to the school, were absolutely on the same footing, notwithstanding the fact that their home-lives might be very far removed the one from the other. Among the most emphatic rules of the school--a rule which, if it were disobeyed, would cause ostracism on the part of the girls and the gravest reprimand, not to say a chance of expulsion, on the part of the teachers--was the borrowing of money. Money was supposed not to be mentioned between the girls; and as to a poor girl borrowing from a rich, it was considered about the blackest crime which could take place in Middleton School. Now, Elma, knew this fact perfectly well, and when she took the eight pounds from Kitty Malone she was aware of the grave risk which she ran. More depended on her keeping up a good character in the school than her companions were at all aware of. She was sent to Middleton School by an aunt who to a certain extent had adopted her--her mother could not possibly afford to pay the fees, small as they were.

Elma knew well as she lay down to sleep that night that if the little transaction between herself and Kitty were known she would be practically ruined for life. No other girl belonging to the school would lend money even if it were asked for, so strong was the feeling on this head; but Kitty knew nothing about it; she had not been long at Middleton, and the subject had not been mentioned to her. Elma sincerely trusted to Kitty's never alluding to it. Kitty had promised not to tell; and Elma believed, wild and erratic as she was, that when her word was once given, she would respect it. When she had asked Kitty to lend her money she had intended only to take half a sovereign; she wanted this in order to pay her subscription to the Tug-of-war Society; but when Kitty generously opened her purse and told her to help herself, the temptation had proved far too strong. Before she quite knew what she was doing she had taken eight sovereigns; had put herself absolutely into Kitty's power, and had run the chance of being ruined for life. Still, that first night she slept soundly, and awoke in the morning with a sense of bliss. She had still a little over seven sovereigns; not her own, and yet in one sense quite her own, for Kitty had said there was no hurry about the replacing of the money. Oh, yes, she was quite certain that no one would find out. She opened her sleepy eyes, yawned, and saw Carrie sitting at the window, busily employed cutting out her dress. Elma remarked crossly at the blaze of light.

"Oh, don't say you mind it, you old dear," cried Carrie. "I can't see unless I have plenty of light, and it's most important how I cut this sleeve. I mean it to be puffy and yet not too puffy, and the elbows must fit exactly in the right place. What a pity it is, Elma, that you and I are not the same sort of figure. I am nearly double as big as you. It would be so convenient if you could be my model; then I might fit my things like a glove. Ah, well, I suppose there's nothing perfect in the world."

Elma turned on her other side.

"If you talk to me any more," she said, "I shall become so cross as to be unbearable. Go on with your dress if you must, but don't speak."

Elma returned to the land of dreams, and Carrie cut and snipped, and basted and pinned, until it was time for her to go downstairs to breakfast. Elma got up at her usual hour, ate her breakfast with scarcely a remark, and started for school. When she got there the different members of the Tug-of-war Society were hanging about the doors. The school was not yet opened and the girls who belonged to the society nodded to one another and whispered and smiled. Among the party waiting at the door were Alice Denvers, Kitty Malone, and Bessie Challoner. Gwin Harley had not yet arrived. It was never Gwin's stately way to be either too early or too late for school; she generally appeared on the scene, driving up in her pretty little phaeton, just as the clock struck nine. The other girls always made way for this dainty little turnout, and Gwin would spring carelessly to the ground, give a direction to the smart tiger who sat behind, and who immediately took the reins, and then, turning with a gay nod to her companions, would enter the school with them.

Gwin was certainly the pride of the school. The girls who were not her absolute friends looked at her with awe, wonder, and admiration. The girls who were her friends bragged of the fact to their companions. It was a pleasure even to look at Gwin, for, although she never overdressed herself, she was always so wonderfully dainty--her neat little shoes, her lovely stockings, the fine quality of her cambric handkerchiefs, the delicate scent which clung to them, the glossy braids of her ever exquisitely arranged hair, and the very set of that perfectly plain sailor hat with its band of white ribbon, were all the acme of perfection. Oh, they all betokened wealth and taste, taste and wealth. No wonder the girls worshiped Gwin. She never boasted of her wealth, she never brought it prominently forward; but for all that it pervaded her from the top of her head to the point of her pretty bronze shoes.

Kitty now gave Gwin an earnest and longing look. There was a peculiar expression about Kitty's face: a sort of new, thoughtful look, as though something was worrying her and causing her to cudgel her brains to quite a remarkable extent. Kitty Malone had never yet been affected with shyness, nor was she shy now. Just as Gwin's carriage appeared and the other girls made way for it as was their wont, and Elma approached quite close to Alice, meaning to make some remark to her, what she never afterward remembered, Kitty ran straight up to Gwin and clasped her by the hand.

"I want to say something to you very badly," she began.

"How do you do, Kitty?" answered Gwin in her pleasant high-bred voice. "You want to say something to me? But the bell has just rung; we must go into school."

"I mean after school," continued Kitty. "Can I walk with you during recess?"

"Oh, but please, Gwin," cried Elma at that point, "you promised to walk with me to-day; don't you remember?"

"Yes, and you promised to walk with me, Miss Harley," exclaimed a girl of the name of Marcia Tyndal.

"But it is so important, Gwin," pleaded Kitty, bringing that peculiar Irish quality into her voice which it was difficult to resist.

"Ah, now do, Gwin," she continued; "do let me walk with you just during this recess. The others may have you for every other recess until Christmas; but do let me be with you just for to-day."

"I think you must, Kitty," said Gwin. "Elma, you won't mind, will you? Marcia, you and I can have to-morrow instead of to-day; is it a bargain?"

"Oh, I don't mind," said Marcia Tyndal in a good natured voice, shrugging her fat shoulders as she spoke.

Then the girls trooped into school, prayers began, and immediately afterward they all assembled at their different classes.

Kitty was restless and nervous, she could not settle to her work. She was more _distrait_ and inattentive even than usual. The younger girls, who delighted in her, and quite prided themselves on having her in their class, nudged her in vain.

"Kitty," whispered one little girl quite three years Kitty Malone's junior, "if you don't open your history book you won't have your lesson ready when Miss Worrick comes."

"Oh, I know all that stupid history," cried Kitty in a low voice. "Don't bother me, Annie, asthore. I can't be teased. I have got something in the back of my head."

"Something in the back of your head?" whispered Annie.

"Yes, yes; but hush, alanna! I can't let it out; it's bothering me entirely. There, if I must look at the stupid history, I must. What part are we doing, Mary Davies?"

"Oh, it's about Charles the First."

"Poor martyr! Shame to England to cut off his head!" Kitty bent over her book, but soon her erratic fancy had started off in another direction. She was sent to the bottom of the class when the history lesson came on, and was looked at with growing disfavor by Miss Worrick, a particularly painstaking and earnest young teacher.

"Really, Miss Malone, if this sort of thing goes on I must report you," she said. "It is pure inattention. If you wish to take any position in the school you must make up your mind that while in school you must work."

"And while out of school I must play," retorted Kitty. "Ah, then, it's little of the play I get. If I had my share of the play I could do my share of work."

"Come, you must not answer me," said Miss Worrick. "Now, sit down and read up that chapter in your history. You will not be allowed to go out during recess this morning."

"Not go out during recess?" cried Kitty in horror; "but it's most important. Ah, now, do let me out; just excuse me to-day, won't you? I'll be as good as gold to-morrow, and better; but excuse me to-day; please, please. Say you will; for I really must go. I was to meet Gwin Harley, the darling; and it's put out she would be awfully if I wasn't with her. You'll let me out to-day, won't you? Please say yes."

"I do not understand you, Miss Malone. When I say a thing I mean it. You are not to go out during recess."

Kitty's bright face fell; the cloud which had more or less hovered round her during the entire morning deepened. She sank into her seat with a heavy sigh.

"Never mind, Kitty; we all of us have to stay in sometimes," whispered little Mary Davies.

"Take a chocolate out of my pocket, darlin', and don't talk to me any more," was Kitty's answer. "I am sad past bearing. Not to see Gwin when I had arranged it all; but I will, I must! There, take a second chocolate if you want it; they are full of cream. But just leave me to my own thoughts for a bit. I am so worried I don't know whether I am on my head or my heels."

"Silence, girls--no whispering!" called the mathematical teacher, who now came on the scene.

Poor Kitty's morning began badly, and it certainly was destined to go on badly. None of her lessons were prepared with the slightest care; she went down lower and lower in class, and each teacher gave her an imposition or some other punishment. When recess came she alone in the whole class was required to remain in the room.

The rest of the girls looked at her with pity.

"She's such an old dear, although quite the idlest and most ignorant person I ever came across," said Mary Davies to her companions.

"Yes," whispered another little girl with fat rosy cheeks and round eyes; "but did you ever taste such chocolate creams? Why, they must cost a halfpenny apiece. I do love to sit next to her; she says I may dive my hand into her pocket as often as I like."

"Oh, she's an old love!" echoed all the girls: "but what a pity it is that she won't learn."

"She does not want to learn," said Mary Davies. "Learning would spoil her; she is a pet."

Meanwhile in the playground Gwin Harley waited in vain for Kitty to join her.

"Does any one know where Kitty Malone is?" she said, addressing one of the girls in Kitty's class.

"She is kept in for an imposition; she did not know her history, and Miss Worrick said she was to stay in," answered Mary Davies.

"Oh, well, I suppose I can see her another time," said Gwin. At that moment she met Elma's anxious eyes.

Elma was just about to dart to the side of her friend, when, to the amazement of all the girls, Kitty walked calmly across the playground.

"Oh Gwin, I must speak to you; it is about Alice. You know, you and Alice are great friends. Things get worse and worse, and they are almost past bearing. Last night I heard her sobbing in bed. She sobbed and sobbed, and at last I could stand no more of it, and sprang out of bed, and bent over her and said: 'Alice, is it about me you are crying?' and she said: 'Oh, yes, Kitty, it is;' and I said, 'And why 'Oh, yes, Kitty?' What has poor Kitty done to you?"

"'I am not happy,' answered Alice. 'Since you came everything has changed; you have made my home miserable to me. I don't like your ways.'

"'Have you made up your mind never to be friends with me?' I asked.

"'Yes,' said Alice. 'I wish you would go away.' She sat up in bed then with her tear-stained face, and looked at me ever so earnestly. 'Tell mother that you would rather go to some other house--that you won't stay here. I never could stand vulgar girls, and you are one.'

"Oh Gwin, I felt so mad. You don't think me a vulgar girl, do you?"

"Tell me the whole," said Gwin in a low voice.

"Oh, there is not much more. Alice was in a regular temper. She buried her face in the clothes, and though I tried pinching her, and pulling her, and petting her even, not another word would she utter. Now, you must see for yourself, Gwin, that if this sort of thing goes on I shall have to return home, and then the old dad will be fretted, and he will think that I don't want to learn manners nor to get learning into me. Oh dear, I don't want to fret him, although I hate England. I have just been wondering if you would speak to Alice."

"Yes, certainly," answered Gwin. "I--" Her words were interrupted.

"Miss Malone, do I see you in the playground?" said a stern voice. Miss Worrick had appeared on the scene.

"Why, then, yes, Miss Worrick, you do. It's a fine day, isn't it; and the air is most refreshing," said Kitty in her most impertinent tones.

"Do you know that you have distinctly disobeyed me? I forbade you to leave the schoolroom during recess. How dared you do so?"

"There wasn't much daring about it. I walked to the door, opened it, and came out. I had made a previous engagement, and it was not at all convenient to break it. I told you so at the time, did I not?"

For answer Miss Worrick took Kitty by the arm and led her across the playground.

"I must take you to Miss Sherrard," she said. "I cannot manage a disobedient girl like you."

She opened a side door, and, still holding Kitty by the arm, led her down a long passage and into a small room, where she desired her to wait while she fetched the head-mistress.

Miss Sherrard was a little woman, but she had a native dignity which is beyond and above all mere personal appearance. She had a keen and commanding eye, a somewhat pale face, an upright little figure. She was not only short in stature, but slight; nevertheless, there was not a mistress in the great school who did not hold her in awe as well as admiration, and not a girl, with the exception, perhaps, of Kitty Malone, who did not do her reverence.

When the door was shut behind Kitty, she drummed impatiently on the bare mahogany table near which she had been placed, then walked to the window and looked out. From her position she could catch a glimpse of Gwin Harley pacing up and down the playground with Elma Lewis. She saw Alice come up and talk to Gwin; she noticed that Gwin and Elma paused, then that Alice slipped to the other side of Gwin, and the three walked slowly up and down. As they walked they talked. Alice nodded her head once or twice; Elma made emphatic grimaces; Gwin alone looked quiet, calm, and stately.

"They are talking about me," thought the Irish girl, and an angry feeling rose in her heart. "Is it for this I have left the dear old dad, and the beautiful home, and the animals, and Aunt Bridget, and Aunt Honora? Oh, is it for this I have left dear Old Ireland, may her heart be blessed! to come here to be slighted, to be made little of, to be joked at! Am I Kitty Malone, or am I somebody else? Oh! my heart will break, my heart will break!"

"Miss Malone, I am sorry to hear this of you," said a very calm, very distinct, and withal very kind voice, just at Kitty's back. Kitty turned abruptly, and said aloud:

"Oh, and did you overhear me?" She then involuntarily dropped a courtesy to the head-mistress.

Miss Sherrard shut the door behind her.

"I am sorry," she began, "to learn from Miss Worrick that you are showing insubordination and disobedience."

"Why, then, now, and won't you let me tell my own story in my own way?" said Kitty.

In spite of herself, Miss Sherrard gave an involuntary smile. It soon vanished, but Kitty had caught the glint in the eye and the tremble round the lips. "Why, then I see at a glance that you have the kind heart," she said; "you thought to keep it in, but I saw it breaking out just then. You'll let me tell my own story, won't you?"

"That seems fair enough," said Miss Sherrard. She seated herself as she spoke on one of the bare, comfortless chairs, and looked full up at Kitty.

Kitty was dressed according to Rule IV. of the Tug-of-war Society. She wore a decidedly fashionable dress, the sleeves well puffed out at the shoulders, fitting nicely at the elbows, and with ruffles of lace, real lace, round the wrists. Round Kitty's throat also there were ruffles of lace; the neck of her dress was cut a little low, showing the soft, full contour of her exquisitely-curved throat. Her waist was clasped with a belt of solid silver, and in front she wore a great bunch of cabbage-roses. The cabbage-rose has a scent which, when once it assails the nostrils, can never afterward be forgotten. Miss Sherrard, in spite of herself, gave a little sniff.

Quick as lightning Kitty saw it, and detached the bunch of roses from her belt.

"Now, will you have them?" she said. "Ah, do now, just to please me, Kitty Malone; they came all the way from Old Ireland this morning. Stay, I'll pin them into the front of your dress. Hold easy a moment dear woman, and you'll have as neat a little bunch as ever you clapped your two eyes on."

Miss Sherrard could not help once again letting that ghost of a smile play round her lips, and then vanish.

"But really," she said--"oh, thank you for the roses; yes, they are very sweet; yes, delicious! She bent her head and sniffed quite audibly.

"Ah, then, aren't they refreshing, and aren't they melting the anger down in your heart? Say they are now--say they are. You see you never had an out-and-out wild Irish girl to manage before. Well, and what is it you want with me? I'll be as civil as you please, and as willing to listen to the words of wisdom, if only you'll let me first tell my own story."

"It is only fair that you should be allowed to tell your own tale," said Miss Sherrard; "but please understand that I am very angry. Miss Worrick's story has amazed me. Do you know. Kitty Malone, of what you are accused?"

"Well, I do, and I don't; but I should like to hear the crime spoken of by your pretty lips. What is it? Something black of course; black things are always laid to the door of Kitty Malone."

"The crime, Miss Malone, is the very grave sin of disobedience. You must know that in a great school of this kind, if there were not perfect obedience there would be no order at all."

"True for you, it looks like it; but then, as far as I can see--and I have watched all the girls pretty closely of late--I am the only black sheep. Now, I should think that one black sheep in a great big orderly place of this kind would make a sort of diversion. You would all be after her, and joking at her, and thinking which of you could get her under control. Well, I am the black sheep, and I suppose I am sorry."

"Don't talk any more, Kitty; listen to me."

"Yes; what is it?"

"You have been disobedient; you were very inattentive over your history lesson, not knowing it at all. Miss Worrick says, as a matter of fact, you did not even trouble to open your book, and when the time came for you to go through your lesson you were not able to answer a single question. For this extreme carelessness she desired you to stay in the schoolroom during morning recess. She said you pleaded hard that she would excuse you, not liking to take the punishment which you richly deserved; but Miss Worrick, very justly insisted on her word being obeyed. What then, was her astonishment to see you in the playground walking calmly up and down with Gwin Harley."

"Yes, dear; and what else could you expect?" answered Kitty.

"What else could I expect? I don't understand."

"Well, was it likely now that I would stay in that close, stifling schoolroom when the sun was shining and there was a bird on a tree outside singing to me as loud as ever it could? And I had made an arrangement with Gwin Harley to walk up and down with her during recess, and the darling girl had put off two others for me, and was waiting for me. Don't you think it was about natural that I should disobey Miss Worrick, whom I never cared twopence for, and go out to Gwin Harley, whom I love? Of course I knew I was disobedient, and I supposed she would punish me; but I didn't think she would have me up for you to lecture me."

"You behaved very badly indeed," said Miss Sherrard; "and you are now talking in an extremely silly way."

Kitty bowed her head; the light went out of her eyes, her face turned pale.

"What punishment will you invent to torture me with?" she said at last in a low voice. "I suppose I have done wrong, and I am willing to take the punishment. What is it?"

"Of course you must be punished," said the head-mistress; "it would never do to allow disobedience is the school. You see, Kitty--"

"Oh, bless you, bless you, for calling me by my Christian name," muttered Kitty Malone.

"Kitty, I am inclined to take you into my confidence."

"Are you, indeed? I declare you're an old dear!"

"You have come to school to learn, have you not?"

"Not a bit of it," answered Kitty; "I came to school to please the old dad."

"Your father?"

"Yes, the dear old dad, the dearest, the best in the world."

"But what did he send you here for?"

"Well, I suppose to get knowledge and manners. Ah, bad luck to them! and I suppose also to tame me down a bit. He said he never could manage that at Castle Malone."

Miss Sherrard once more gave that faint involuntary smile.

"Your father sent you here," she said, "to put you under discipline. While you are in this school, my dear girl, you must obey me, and also the other teachers. If you are disobedient the other girls will be disobedient, and then where should we all be?"

"It would be a lark!" muttered Kitty, with sparkling eyes.

"Don't interrupt, and please listen. I should be very sorry to send you back to Castle Malone in disgrace. I should be sorry to have to write to your father in order to tell him that his Kitty, whom he loves--his bright, pretty, lovable daughter--can never learn manners nor accomplishments, nor be tamed in the very least. There are from six to seven hundred girls in this school, who all now know about your very daring act of disobedience. Were I not to punish you they would be astonished, and some of them might even go to the length of copying your behavior. You see this for yourself, don't you?"

"Oh, I see it plain enough," answered Kitty; "plain as a pikestaff. What's the punishment to be?"

Miss Sherrard hesitated. Once more she looked at Kitty; Kitty's eyes were as bright as stars.

"You need not be afraid," said the pupil in an encouraging voice. "I am nothing of a coward; I'll take anything in reason. Is it a flogging you are thinking of ordering for me?"

"Oh, no; we never flog in this school," said Miss Sherrard in a shocked voice.

"Why, then, if it is something in the shape of learning a lesson it will go cruel with me. I don't care for learning, and----"

"I am afraid, Kitty, that I must give you the kind of punishment which all the school may know about. All the school now knows of your disobedience, and it must also be well aware of your punishment."

"Good gracious! this sounds exciting," answered Kitty. "I am to have a punishment that all the school will know about."

"Yes, it is this. To-morrow morning, just before recess, you are to go up to Miss Worrick, and tell her before the entire school that you are sorry you disobeyed her; you are then to offer to stay in during the play hour."

"If that's all," said Kitty, "it is not much of a bother. I am to say I am sorry, and I am to stay in to-morrow. You won't object to my bringing--"

"I'll hear of no conditions," answered Miss Sherrard, starting to her feet. "Go away now, my dear girl, and please remember that your father sent you here to learn, that I trust you will learn, and that you will also endeavor to be good to--to please me, Kitty."

Kitty's eyes filled with sudden tears.

"You are very kind," she murmured. "I know I should soon learn to love you. You wouldn't mind letting me give you a hug, would you?"

"I will certainly kiss you, dear, but no demonstration, please. Kitty, I know you have a warm heart; but don't let it lead you into mischief. There is much for you to learn in England, as I doubt not there would be much for an English girl to learn in your country."

"Ah, but it is the dearest land in all the world," said Kitty.

"I am sure it is to you; but say no more now. I will speak to Miss Worrick; she will expect you to do what I have desired to-morrow." _

Read next: Chapter 10. Paddy Wheel-About

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