Chapter Ten.

Chapter Ten.An Armistice.A week passed by, and the mystery was no nearer being unravelled than on the first evening, though every possible means had been taken to discover the offender. At the beginning of the time the general feeling had been in favour of Pixie, but girls are very human creatures, and as the days passed by and they suffered for her silence, a feeling of resentment began to grow against her. Why should all the school be suspected because one girl refused to tell what she knew? What was the use of pretending to be so kind and helpful, if you would not sacrifice your pride for your friends’ comfort? If Pixie were innocent, why should she be afraid to answer questions? But, really—and then the heads would draw close together, and the voices drop to a whisper—really she looked so wretched and ashamed, that one began to wonder if she could be innocent after all! A whole week, and she had not once been in mischief. Didn’t that look as if something was on her mind? While as for funny stories, she was as dull as Clara herself; and it was impossible to say anything more scathing than that!After Margaret’s failure no more personal efforts had been made to induce Pixie to confess; but at the end of a week the anticipated blow fell, for Miss Phipps addressed the assembled school and announced her intention of confiscating holidays until the end of the term.“I am sorry to punish the innocent with the guilty,” she said, “but I hope that the consciousness that she is depriving her companions of their enjoyment may have more influence with the culprit, whoever she may be, than any words of mine. I don’t think it is right to deprive your teachers of their much-needed rest, so on Wednesdays and Saturdays you will have extra preparation during the hours which would otherwise have been your own. Of course no invitations can be accepted. I have written to your brother, Pixie, to say that you will not be able to go out with him on Saturday, as arranged.”Pixie’s cry of dismay was drowned by the general groan, which swelled ever louder and louder as Miss Phipps left the room. The younger girls looked inclined to cry, one or two stamped on the floor with irrepressible anger, and there was a very babel of indignation.“I told you so! What did I say? As if we hadn’t enough to do without slaving six hours more! I know what it will be now—I shall get so worn out that I shall fail in my examination.”“Preparation! More prep! I call that adding insult to injury. If it had been a class, I wouldn’t have minded half so much. I’m sick and tired of school. I’ll ask my mother if I may leave the day I am seventeen.”“And I was going out on Wednesday! I had an invitation this morning, and was going to tell Miss Phipps after tea. I may as well write and say I can’t go, and it would have been so nice too. I should have had such fun!”“Jack was going to take me to the s–s–circus! I’ve never seen a clown in all me days! I was c–counting the hours!” stammered Pixie tearfully; and at the sound of her voice, as at a signal, all the girls stopped talking and fixed their eyes upon her. She looked pitiful enough with the tears streaming down her cheeks, but there was not much sympathy in the watching faces, and for the first time the growing resentment forced itself into words.“You have only yourself to blame,” Kate said coldly. “If you had spoken up and told all you knew about that horrible night, it would have been forgotten by this time. I believe Mademoiselle is sorry already that she made such a fuss, but Miss Phipps won’t rest until she has found out what she wants. If youwillbe obstinate, you must expect to be punished, but it’s hard lines on the rest of us who have done nothing wrong.”“And we were all so kind to you, Pixie O’Shaughnessy, and made a regular pet of you—you know we did! We helped you like angels when you couldn’t do your lessons. I’ve been in this school five years, and I’ve never seen a new girl made such a fuss of before. I call you an ungrateful serpent to turn and rend us like this.”“Clowns indeed! I should think you have something else to think of than clowns! Do you realise that thirty girls are losing their fun for three whole weeks because you won’t speak? If you had any nice feeling, you would be too miserable for clowns.”“Oh, Pixie, I’ve such a smashing headache! You might tell! I was so looking forward to a rest this afternoon. It makes the week so dreadfully, dreadfully long when there are no holidays!”Flora’s voice was full of tears, and Pixie’s miserable glance, roving from one speaker to another, grew suddenly eager as it rested upon her, for she was skilled in the treatment of headaches, and was never more happy than when officiating as nurse.“I’ll lend ye my smelling-bottle. It’s awful strong! Ye said yourself the last time you smelt it ye forgot all about the pain. Will I run up this minute and bring it for you?”“No, thank you!” Flora’s tone was almost as cold as Kate’s. “I don’t want your loans. Smelling-bottles are no good to me if I have to rack my brains all the afternoon. You needn’t pretend to be sorry, for if you were you could soon cure me. Come along, girls, let’s go upstairs! It is no use talking to her any longer.”The girls linked arms and filed to the door, only Lottie lingering behind to thrust her hand encouragingly through Pixie’s arm. Kate, standing near, caught the whispered words of consolation. “You shall go to the circus in the holidays. I’ll ask you to stay with me, and we will go somewhere nice every afternoon!”—and told herself reproachfully that Lottie was more forgiving than herself.“I don’t feel in the least inclined to offer her treats, though I’m sorry for her all the same. She does look such a woe-begone little wretch! It’s my belief she thought it was a good opportunity to examine the scent-bottle when we were all upstairs, and that she put it down too roughly or let it slip from her hands and hadn’t the nerve to own up at once. I don’t wonder she is afraid to confess now; I should be myself. You don’t know what might happen—you might even be expelled! I don’t believe Miss Phipps would keep a girl who was so mean as to make all the school suffer rather than face a scolding. There’s one thing certain, I’m not going to have Pixie O’Shaughnessy fagging for me until this business is cleared up! I have tied my own hair bows before and can do them again, and I shall tell Flora and Ethel not to allow her in their cubicles either. If she is untruthful, how are we to know that she might not be dishonest next!”There is no truer proverb than that which says, “Give a dog a bad name and hang him!” for it is certain that when once we begin to harbour suspicion, a dozen little actions and coincidences arise to strengthen us in our convictions.It is also true that no judges are so unflinching as very young people, who set a hard line between right and wrong, and are unwilling to acknowledge the existence of extenuating circumstances. During the next few weeks Pixie was sent to Coventry by her companions, to her own unutterable grief and confusion. No one offered to help her with difficult lessons; no one invited her to be a companion in the daily crocodile; no one made room for her when she entered a room; on the contrary, she was avoided as if her very presence were infectious, and when she spoke a silence fell over the room, and several moments elapsed before a cold, stern voice would vouchsafe a monosyllabic answer. She was at the bottom of her classes too, being unable to learn in this atmosphere of displeasure, and the governess’s strictures had in them a touch of unusual severity.Curiously enough, it was Mademoiselle herself who showed most sympathy with Pixie during those dark days. Like most people of impulsive temperament, she had quick reactions of feeling, and after having stormed and bewailed for a couple of days, she began to regret the gloom into which she had plunged the school. She had been fond of the droll little Irish girl, and, though convinced of her guilt, feared lest her own unbridled anger had frightened a sensitive child into a denial difficult to retract.It happened one day that governess and pupil were alike suffering from cold and unable to go out for the usual walk, and the impressionable French heart went out in a wave of pity, as its owner entered the deserted schoolroom and found Pixie seated alone by the fire, her hands folded listlessly on her lap, a very Cinderella of misery and dejection. When the door opened she looked up with that shrinking expression of dread which is so pitiful to see on a young face, for to be lefttête-à-têtewith Mademoiselle seemed under the circumstances the most terrible thing that could happen. Her head drooped forward over her chest, and she stared fixedly at the floor while Mademoiselle seated herself on a chair close by and stared at her with curious eyes.Surely the ugly little face was smaller, the figure more absurdly minute than of yore! The black dress with its folds of rusty crape added to the pathos of the picture, and awoke remembrances of the dead mother who would never comfort her baby again, nor point out the right way with wise, tender words. Mademoiselle’s thoughts went back to her own past, when, if the truth must be told, she had been an exceedingly naughty child; and she realised that it was not coldness and severity which had wrought the most good, but the tender patience and affection of the kindest of parents. What if they had been trying the wrong course with Pixie O’Shaughnessy? What if suspicion and avoidance were but hardening the child’s heart and hastening her path downwards? Mademoiselle cleared her throat and said in the softest tone which she could command—“Eh bien, Pixie! What are you doing sitting here all by yourself?”“I’m thinking, Mademoiselle.”“And what are you thinking about then? Tell me your thoughts for a penny, as you girls say to each other!”“I’m thinking of Foxe’s martyrs!” was Pixie’s somewhat startling reply. Her face had lightened with immeasurable relief at the sound of the friendly voice, and the talkative tongue once loosened could not resist the temptation to enlarge on the reply. “We have the book at home. Did ye ever see it, Mademoiselle? It’s got lovely pictures! There’s one man lying down and they are pinching him with hot tongs, and another being stoned, and another being boiled in oil. They were so brave that they never screeched out, but only sang hymns, and prayed beautiful prayers. I used to long to be a martyr too, but I don’t any more now, for I know I couldn’t bear it, but it cheers me up to think about them. Bridgie says there’s nothing so bad but it might be worse, and I was thinking that they were worse off than me. I’d rather even that the girls wouldn’t speak to me than boiling oil—wouldn’t you, Mademoiselle?”“I would indeed!” replied Mademoiselle fervently. “But what a subject to think about on a dull grey day! No wonder you look miserable! You need not think about boiling oil just now at all events, for I have to stay in too, and I have come to sit here and talk to you. Will that make you feel a little bit less miserable?”“Now that depends upon what ye talk about, Mademoiselle,” said Pixie, with that air of quaint candour which her companions had been wont to find so amusing; and Mademoiselle first smiled, and then looked grave enough.“I am not going to question you about your trouble, if you mean that, Pixie. It is Miss Phipps’s affair now, not mine. I wish you had been more outspoken, but I am not going to scold you again. You are being punished already, and I feel sorry to see you so grave and to hear no more laughs and jokes. Shall we ’ave what they call an armistice, and talk together as we used to do when we were very good friends?”She held out her hand as she spoke, and Pixie’s thin fingers grasped hers with a force that was almost painful. She looked overcome with gratitude, nevertheless, now that it had been agreed to talk, both felt a decided difficulty in deciding what to talk about, for even a temporary coldness between friends heaps up many barriers, and in this particular case it was difficult to feel once more at ease and unconstrained. It was Pixie who spoke first, and her voice was full of shy eagerness.“How’s your father, Mademoiselle? Is he having his health any better than it was?”“A little—yes, a little better. He is in the South with my brother until the cold winds are over in Paris. He is like me—he hates to be cold, so he is very happy down there in the sunshine. I told you about him then, did I? I had forgotten that.”“Yes, you told me that day when I—when I lassoed you on the stairs, and I wrote the verb not to be rude to you any more. You said I would remember that, and I do; but perhaps you think I have done something worse than being rude, Mademoiselle! I want to know—please tell me!—can your bottle be stuck together so that you can use it again?”Mademoiselle’s face clouded over. She had recovered from her first violent anger about the accident, but it was still too sore a subject to be lightly touched.“No,” she said shortly, “it cannot mend. I tried. I thought I might use it still as an ornament, but the pieces will notfit. There is perhaps something missing. I have just to make up my mind that it is gone for ever. It seems as if I should never know what happened to it.”An expression of undoubted relief and satisfaction passed over Pixie’s face as she heard these last words, but Mademoiselle was gazing disconsolately in the fire, and it had passed before she looked up. Perhaps she had hoped that her words would draw forth some sort of confession, but, if so, she was fated to be disappointed, for when Pixie spoke again it was to broach another subject.“Mademoiselle, I’ve a favour to ask you! I’ve been afraid to do it before, but you are so kind to-day that I’m not frightened any longer. It’s about the party at the end of the term. The girls say they always have one, and they will be broken-hearted if they miss that as well as all the holidays. It is no use my asking, because it’s me that’s in trouble, but, Mademoiselle, it was your bottle that was broken. If you asked Miss Phipps, she couldn’t find the heart in her to say no! Please, Mademoiselle, will you ask if the girls can have their party the same as ever?”Mademoiselle looked, as she felt, completely taken aback by this unexpected request. It sounded strange indeed coming from Pixie’s lips, and it was difficult to explain to the girl that she herself would be the greatest hindrance to the granting of such a request. She looked down, fingered her dress in embarrassment, and said slowly—“For my part I should be glad for the girls to have their party. It is hard that they should all suffer, and itisdull for them. I have been here three years, but it was never so dull as this. Yes, I would ask, but what would Miss Phipps say? That is a different thing! It seems odd to stop the holidays and give the party all the same, and—do you not see?—the bad girl—the girl who will not say what she has done—she would have her pleasure with the rest, and that would not be right. It is to punish her we have to punish many.”“But if I stayed upstairs—” cried Pixie eagerly, and then stopped short, with crimson cheeks, as if startled by the sound of her own words. “I mean I am the one they are vexed with; they want to punish me most. If I stayed upstairs in my own room, or was sent to bed, why shouldn’t the others have their party? It would be an extra punishment to me to hear them dancing, wouldn’t it now?”Mademoiselle threw up her bands in an expressive silence. In all her experience of school life never before had she met a girl who pleaded in such coaxing terms for her own humiliation, and she was at sea as to what it might mean. Either Pixie was guilty, in which case she was one of the most arrant little hypocrites that could be imagined, or she was innocent, and a marvel of sweetness and charity. Which could it be? A moment before she had felt sure that the former was the case, now she was equally convinced of the latter. In any case she was gratified by the idea that she herself should plead for the breaking-up party, and was ready to promise that she would interview Miss Phipps without delay.“And ye’ll not say that ever I mentioned it,” urged Pixie anxiously, “for maybe that would put her off altogether. Just ask as if it was a favour to yourself, and if she asks, ‘What about Pixie?’ ‘Oh, Pixie,’ says you, ‘never trouble about her! Send her to bed! It will be good for her health. She can lie still and listen to the music, and amuse herself thinking of all she has lost.’”The beaming smile with which this suggestion was offered was too much for Mademoiselle’s composure, and, do what she would, she could not restrain a peal of laughter.“You are a ridiculous child, but I will do as you say, and hope for success. I like parties too, but it will not be half so nice if you are not there,petite! See, I was angry at first, and when I am angry I say many sharp things, but I am not angry any more. If it had happened to anyone to break my bottle by mistake, she need no more be frightened to tell me. I would not be angry now!”“Wouldn’t you?” queried Pixie eagerly, but instantly her face fell, and she shivered as with dread. “But, oh, Miss Phipps would! She would be angrier than ever! The girls say so, and it is only a fortnight longer before the holidays, and then we shall all go home. If it is not found out before the holidays, it will be all over then, won’t it? No one will say anything about it next term.”“I do not know, Pixie. I can’t tell what Miss Phipps will do,” returned Mademoiselle sadly. She felt no doubt at this moment that Pixie was guilty; but that only strengthened her in her decision to plead for the party, for it did indeed seem hard that twenty-nine girls should be deprived of their pleasure for the sake of one obstinate wrong-doer.

A week passed by, and the mystery was no nearer being unravelled than on the first evening, though every possible means had been taken to discover the offender. At the beginning of the time the general feeling had been in favour of Pixie, but girls are very human creatures, and as the days passed by and they suffered for her silence, a feeling of resentment began to grow against her. Why should all the school be suspected because one girl refused to tell what she knew? What was the use of pretending to be so kind and helpful, if you would not sacrifice your pride for your friends’ comfort? If Pixie were innocent, why should she be afraid to answer questions? But, really—and then the heads would draw close together, and the voices drop to a whisper—really she looked so wretched and ashamed, that one began to wonder if she could be innocent after all! A whole week, and she had not once been in mischief. Didn’t that look as if something was on her mind? While as for funny stories, she was as dull as Clara herself; and it was impossible to say anything more scathing than that!

After Margaret’s failure no more personal efforts had been made to induce Pixie to confess; but at the end of a week the anticipated blow fell, for Miss Phipps addressed the assembled school and announced her intention of confiscating holidays until the end of the term.

“I am sorry to punish the innocent with the guilty,” she said, “but I hope that the consciousness that she is depriving her companions of their enjoyment may have more influence with the culprit, whoever she may be, than any words of mine. I don’t think it is right to deprive your teachers of their much-needed rest, so on Wednesdays and Saturdays you will have extra preparation during the hours which would otherwise have been your own. Of course no invitations can be accepted. I have written to your brother, Pixie, to say that you will not be able to go out with him on Saturday, as arranged.”

Pixie’s cry of dismay was drowned by the general groan, which swelled ever louder and louder as Miss Phipps left the room. The younger girls looked inclined to cry, one or two stamped on the floor with irrepressible anger, and there was a very babel of indignation.

“I told you so! What did I say? As if we hadn’t enough to do without slaving six hours more! I know what it will be now—I shall get so worn out that I shall fail in my examination.”

“Preparation! More prep! I call that adding insult to injury. If it had been a class, I wouldn’t have minded half so much. I’m sick and tired of school. I’ll ask my mother if I may leave the day I am seventeen.”

“And I was going out on Wednesday! I had an invitation this morning, and was going to tell Miss Phipps after tea. I may as well write and say I can’t go, and it would have been so nice too. I should have had such fun!”

“Jack was going to take me to the s–s–circus! I’ve never seen a clown in all me days! I was c–counting the hours!” stammered Pixie tearfully; and at the sound of her voice, as at a signal, all the girls stopped talking and fixed their eyes upon her. She looked pitiful enough with the tears streaming down her cheeks, but there was not much sympathy in the watching faces, and for the first time the growing resentment forced itself into words.

“You have only yourself to blame,” Kate said coldly. “If you had spoken up and told all you knew about that horrible night, it would have been forgotten by this time. I believe Mademoiselle is sorry already that she made such a fuss, but Miss Phipps won’t rest until she has found out what she wants. If youwillbe obstinate, you must expect to be punished, but it’s hard lines on the rest of us who have done nothing wrong.”

“And we were all so kind to you, Pixie O’Shaughnessy, and made a regular pet of you—you know we did! We helped you like angels when you couldn’t do your lessons. I’ve been in this school five years, and I’ve never seen a new girl made such a fuss of before. I call you an ungrateful serpent to turn and rend us like this.”

“Clowns indeed! I should think you have something else to think of than clowns! Do you realise that thirty girls are losing their fun for three whole weeks because you won’t speak? If you had any nice feeling, you would be too miserable for clowns.”

“Oh, Pixie, I’ve such a smashing headache! You might tell! I was so looking forward to a rest this afternoon. It makes the week so dreadfully, dreadfully long when there are no holidays!”

Flora’s voice was full of tears, and Pixie’s miserable glance, roving from one speaker to another, grew suddenly eager as it rested upon her, for she was skilled in the treatment of headaches, and was never more happy than when officiating as nurse.

“I’ll lend ye my smelling-bottle. It’s awful strong! Ye said yourself the last time you smelt it ye forgot all about the pain. Will I run up this minute and bring it for you?”

“No, thank you!” Flora’s tone was almost as cold as Kate’s. “I don’t want your loans. Smelling-bottles are no good to me if I have to rack my brains all the afternoon. You needn’t pretend to be sorry, for if you were you could soon cure me. Come along, girls, let’s go upstairs! It is no use talking to her any longer.”

The girls linked arms and filed to the door, only Lottie lingering behind to thrust her hand encouragingly through Pixie’s arm. Kate, standing near, caught the whispered words of consolation. “You shall go to the circus in the holidays. I’ll ask you to stay with me, and we will go somewhere nice every afternoon!”—and told herself reproachfully that Lottie was more forgiving than herself.

“I don’t feel in the least inclined to offer her treats, though I’m sorry for her all the same. She does look such a woe-begone little wretch! It’s my belief she thought it was a good opportunity to examine the scent-bottle when we were all upstairs, and that she put it down too roughly or let it slip from her hands and hadn’t the nerve to own up at once. I don’t wonder she is afraid to confess now; I should be myself. You don’t know what might happen—you might even be expelled! I don’t believe Miss Phipps would keep a girl who was so mean as to make all the school suffer rather than face a scolding. There’s one thing certain, I’m not going to have Pixie O’Shaughnessy fagging for me until this business is cleared up! I have tied my own hair bows before and can do them again, and I shall tell Flora and Ethel not to allow her in their cubicles either. If she is untruthful, how are we to know that she might not be dishonest next!”

There is no truer proverb than that which says, “Give a dog a bad name and hang him!” for it is certain that when once we begin to harbour suspicion, a dozen little actions and coincidences arise to strengthen us in our convictions.

It is also true that no judges are so unflinching as very young people, who set a hard line between right and wrong, and are unwilling to acknowledge the existence of extenuating circumstances. During the next few weeks Pixie was sent to Coventry by her companions, to her own unutterable grief and confusion. No one offered to help her with difficult lessons; no one invited her to be a companion in the daily crocodile; no one made room for her when she entered a room; on the contrary, she was avoided as if her very presence were infectious, and when she spoke a silence fell over the room, and several moments elapsed before a cold, stern voice would vouchsafe a monosyllabic answer. She was at the bottom of her classes too, being unable to learn in this atmosphere of displeasure, and the governess’s strictures had in them a touch of unusual severity.

Curiously enough, it was Mademoiselle herself who showed most sympathy with Pixie during those dark days. Like most people of impulsive temperament, she had quick reactions of feeling, and after having stormed and bewailed for a couple of days, she began to regret the gloom into which she had plunged the school. She had been fond of the droll little Irish girl, and, though convinced of her guilt, feared lest her own unbridled anger had frightened a sensitive child into a denial difficult to retract.

It happened one day that governess and pupil were alike suffering from cold and unable to go out for the usual walk, and the impressionable French heart went out in a wave of pity, as its owner entered the deserted schoolroom and found Pixie seated alone by the fire, her hands folded listlessly on her lap, a very Cinderella of misery and dejection. When the door opened she looked up with that shrinking expression of dread which is so pitiful to see on a young face, for to be lefttête-à-têtewith Mademoiselle seemed under the circumstances the most terrible thing that could happen. Her head drooped forward over her chest, and she stared fixedly at the floor while Mademoiselle seated herself on a chair close by and stared at her with curious eyes.

Surely the ugly little face was smaller, the figure more absurdly minute than of yore! The black dress with its folds of rusty crape added to the pathos of the picture, and awoke remembrances of the dead mother who would never comfort her baby again, nor point out the right way with wise, tender words. Mademoiselle’s thoughts went back to her own past, when, if the truth must be told, she had been an exceedingly naughty child; and she realised that it was not coldness and severity which had wrought the most good, but the tender patience and affection of the kindest of parents. What if they had been trying the wrong course with Pixie O’Shaughnessy? What if suspicion and avoidance were but hardening the child’s heart and hastening her path downwards? Mademoiselle cleared her throat and said in the softest tone which she could command—

“Eh bien, Pixie! What are you doing sitting here all by yourself?”

“I’m thinking, Mademoiselle.”

“And what are you thinking about then? Tell me your thoughts for a penny, as you girls say to each other!”

“I’m thinking of Foxe’s martyrs!” was Pixie’s somewhat startling reply. Her face had lightened with immeasurable relief at the sound of the friendly voice, and the talkative tongue once loosened could not resist the temptation to enlarge on the reply. “We have the book at home. Did ye ever see it, Mademoiselle? It’s got lovely pictures! There’s one man lying down and they are pinching him with hot tongs, and another being stoned, and another being boiled in oil. They were so brave that they never screeched out, but only sang hymns, and prayed beautiful prayers. I used to long to be a martyr too, but I don’t any more now, for I know I couldn’t bear it, but it cheers me up to think about them. Bridgie says there’s nothing so bad but it might be worse, and I was thinking that they were worse off than me. I’d rather even that the girls wouldn’t speak to me than boiling oil—wouldn’t you, Mademoiselle?”

“I would indeed!” replied Mademoiselle fervently. “But what a subject to think about on a dull grey day! No wonder you look miserable! You need not think about boiling oil just now at all events, for I have to stay in too, and I have come to sit here and talk to you. Will that make you feel a little bit less miserable?”

“Now that depends upon what ye talk about, Mademoiselle,” said Pixie, with that air of quaint candour which her companions had been wont to find so amusing; and Mademoiselle first smiled, and then looked grave enough.

“I am not going to question you about your trouble, if you mean that, Pixie. It is Miss Phipps’s affair now, not mine. I wish you had been more outspoken, but I am not going to scold you again. You are being punished already, and I feel sorry to see you so grave and to hear no more laughs and jokes. Shall we ’ave what they call an armistice, and talk together as we used to do when we were very good friends?”

She held out her hand as she spoke, and Pixie’s thin fingers grasped hers with a force that was almost painful. She looked overcome with gratitude, nevertheless, now that it had been agreed to talk, both felt a decided difficulty in deciding what to talk about, for even a temporary coldness between friends heaps up many barriers, and in this particular case it was difficult to feel once more at ease and unconstrained. It was Pixie who spoke first, and her voice was full of shy eagerness.

“How’s your father, Mademoiselle? Is he having his health any better than it was?”

“A little—yes, a little better. He is in the South with my brother until the cold winds are over in Paris. He is like me—he hates to be cold, so he is very happy down there in the sunshine. I told you about him then, did I? I had forgotten that.”

“Yes, you told me that day when I—when I lassoed you on the stairs, and I wrote the verb not to be rude to you any more. You said I would remember that, and I do; but perhaps you think I have done something worse than being rude, Mademoiselle! I want to know—please tell me!—can your bottle be stuck together so that you can use it again?”

Mademoiselle’s face clouded over. She had recovered from her first violent anger about the accident, but it was still too sore a subject to be lightly touched.

“No,” she said shortly, “it cannot mend. I tried. I thought I might use it still as an ornament, but the pieces will notfit. There is perhaps something missing. I have just to make up my mind that it is gone for ever. It seems as if I should never know what happened to it.”

An expression of undoubted relief and satisfaction passed over Pixie’s face as she heard these last words, but Mademoiselle was gazing disconsolately in the fire, and it had passed before she looked up. Perhaps she had hoped that her words would draw forth some sort of confession, but, if so, she was fated to be disappointed, for when Pixie spoke again it was to broach another subject.

“Mademoiselle, I’ve a favour to ask you! I’ve been afraid to do it before, but you are so kind to-day that I’m not frightened any longer. It’s about the party at the end of the term. The girls say they always have one, and they will be broken-hearted if they miss that as well as all the holidays. It is no use my asking, because it’s me that’s in trouble, but, Mademoiselle, it was your bottle that was broken. If you asked Miss Phipps, she couldn’t find the heart in her to say no! Please, Mademoiselle, will you ask if the girls can have their party the same as ever?”

Mademoiselle looked, as she felt, completely taken aback by this unexpected request. It sounded strange indeed coming from Pixie’s lips, and it was difficult to explain to the girl that she herself would be the greatest hindrance to the granting of such a request. She looked down, fingered her dress in embarrassment, and said slowly—

“For my part I should be glad for the girls to have their party. It is hard that they should all suffer, and itisdull for them. I have been here three years, but it was never so dull as this. Yes, I would ask, but what would Miss Phipps say? That is a different thing! It seems odd to stop the holidays and give the party all the same, and—do you not see?—the bad girl—the girl who will not say what she has done—she would have her pleasure with the rest, and that would not be right. It is to punish her we have to punish many.”

“But if I stayed upstairs—” cried Pixie eagerly, and then stopped short, with crimson cheeks, as if startled by the sound of her own words. “I mean I am the one they are vexed with; they want to punish me most. If I stayed upstairs in my own room, or was sent to bed, why shouldn’t the others have their party? It would be an extra punishment to me to hear them dancing, wouldn’t it now?”

Mademoiselle threw up her bands in an expressive silence. In all her experience of school life never before had she met a girl who pleaded in such coaxing terms for her own humiliation, and she was at sea as to what it might mean. Either Pixie was guilty, in which case she was one of the most arrant little hypocrites that could be imagined, or she was innocent, and a marvel of sweetness and charity. Which could it be? A moment before she had felt sure that the former was the case, now she was equally convinced of the latter. In any case she was gratified by the idea that she herself should plead for the breaking-up party, and was ready to promise that she would interview Miss Phipps without delay.

“And ye’ll not say that ever I mentioned it,” urged Pixie anxiously, “for maybe that would put her off altogether. Just ask as if it was a favour to yourself, and if she asks, ‘What about Pixie?’ ‘Oh, Pixie,’ says you, ‘never trouble about her! Send her to bed! It will be good for her health. She can lie still and listen to the music, and amuse herself thinking of all she has lost.’”

The beaming smile with which this suggestion was offered was too much for Mademoiselle’s composure, and, do what she would, she could not restrain a peal of laughter.

“You are a ridiculous child, but I will do as you say, and hope for success. I like parties too, but it will not be half so nice if you are not there,petite! See, I was angry at first, and when I am angry I say many sharp things, but I am not angry any more. If it had happened to anyone to break my bottle by mistake, she need no more be frightened to tell me. I would not be angry now!”

“Wouldn’t you?” queried Pixie eagerly, but instantly her face fell, and she shivered as with dread. “But, oh, Miss Phipps would! She would be angrier than ever! The girls say so, and it is only a fortnight longer before the holidays, and then we shall all go home. If it is not found out before the holidays, it will be all over then, won’t it? No one will say anything about it next term.”

“I do not know, Pixie. I can’t tell what Miss Phipps will do,” returned Mademoiselle sadly. She felt no doubt at this moment that Pixie was guilty; but that only strengthened her in her decision to plead for the party, for it did indeed seem hard that twenty-nine girls should be deprived of their pleasure for the sake of one obstinate wrong-doer.

Chapter Eleven.Divided Opinions.“Girls,” announced Miss Phipps after tea, two evenings later, “I have something to tell you which I am sure you will be delighted, and also much touched to hear. You have, I suppose, taken for granted that no breaking-up party would be held this term, as I have unfortunately had to deprive you of all holidays and excursions. For myself, I had put the matter entirely aside, as out of keeping with our present position, but you have had an advocate whom I have found it impossible to refuse. Someone has pleaded your cause so eloquently that she has gained the day, and I have now to announce that your party will be held as usual on Wednesday next, a few days before we break up. Don’t thank me, please! It is someone else who deserves your thanks. Can you guess who it is?”The girls were jumping about in their seats, all excitement and delight. Ethel was tossing her curls, Flora beaming from ear to ear, Kate’s eyes were dancing behind her spectacles, Margaret was looking across the table at Pixie with an anxious, scrutinising glance. Who could it be—this unknown champion? There were whispering and consulting on every side, but the first suggestions fell wide of the mark.“Mrs Vane!” said one, mentioning the name of the giver of the “Alice Prize,” which was held in such importance in the school. But no, it was not Mrs Vane. “Miss Ewing!” cried another, naming a friend of Miss Phipps, who on one memorable occasion had begged a holiday for the entire school; but it was not Miss Ewing. “Nearer home, nearer home! She is in this room now!” cried Miss Phipps, laughing; and then it was impossible to look at Mademoiselle’s red cheeks and remain in doubt any longer.The gasp of surprise, of gratitude, of admiration that went round the room was the most eloquent acknowledgment of the generosity which had prompted the request, and Mademoiselle grew redder than ever, as she reflected that she would not have deserved any thanks had it not been for the suggestion of another. She looked instinctively at Pixie, and met a smile which reached from ear to ear, and was fairly beaming over with exultation. No one in the room looked so beamingly happy, but the next moment the smile gave way to a startled expression, as Miss Phipps continued slowly—“There is one girl whom I am unfortunately obliged to except in giving my invitation, and that is Pixie O’Shaughnessy. Whether she is guilty of really breaking Mademoiselle’s scent-bottle or not, it is impossible for me to say, but a suspicion has rested upon her which she has persistently refused to remove. I cannot allow a girl who defies my authority to be among us on such an occasion, and though the fact that she is in disgrace will cast a shadow over our evening, I consider that I have no choice in the matter. On Wednesday night, then, Pixie, you will have tea by yourself in the schoolroom, and go up to bed at seven o’clock.”“I will, Miss Phipps,” said Pixie faintly. She had blushed until her face was crimson from the roots of her hair to the tip of her chin, and her face stood out like a vivid peony among those of her companions. Everyone looked at her, and the glances were more kindly than they had been for many a day; for it is easy to be sympathetic when we get our own way, and have shifted the burden off our own shoulders on to those of another. When the Principal left the room, attention was almost equally divided between Mademoiselle and Pixie, who were each surrounded by a group of excited talkers.“Oh, Maddie, I do call you an angel! It was simply sweet of you to plead for us when you have been the one to suffer. I’ll love you for ever for this!”“So shall I, Maddie, and you’ll see how well I’ll do my verbs! I’ll never worry you any more, but be so good and industrious. Dance with me, do, the first waltz, and I’ll be gentleman, and not let you bump into anybody!”“Pixie dear, I’m so sorry, but you would rather the girls had their party even if you couldn’t go, wouldn’t you, dear?”—this from Margaret, while Lottie tossed her head and said—“She needn’t distress herself! There is nothing to make a fuss about. Party, indeed! A fine sort of party! No one comes, and it is just like any other night, except that you dance and wear your best things!”“And have programmes, and trifles, and jellies, and crackers, and all sorts of good things, and sit up until ten o’clock! But I’m awfully sorry you can’t come, Pixie. If I get a chance I’ll bring you something upstairs from the supper-table. You can’t put lumps of jelly in your pocket, but if there is anything dry, I’ll bring it to you when I go to bed!”“So will I, Pixie. My party frock has a baggy front, so I can carry a lot. I could get a whole cheese-cake in when no one was looking. Or would you rather have a mince pie?”“I think I’d rather have—both,” said Pixie sadly. “I shall be so hungry, lying alone repining! I have never been to a party except once, at Bally William, and that wasn’t a party either, for there was only me and two other boys, and the girls of the house, but we had crackers all the same, and I got an elegant little fan. The same I offered to you, Lottie, when you went out last time!”“I remember, but it didn’t go with my dress. That’s another thing, Pixie—you haven’t a dress to wear, so it’s just as well you aren’t asked, after all! I managed to make you presentable for a half-term evening, but that old frock of yours would never do for a breaking-up party.”Well, Lottie evidently intended to be comforting, but she had an extraordinary tactless way of going about it, Kate reflected angrily. She herself had a much happier inspiration, when she said with an elaborate affectation of relief—“And it’s an ill wind that blows nobody good! What we should have done without you to help us to dress, I really don’t know! Mind you come to me first now. Ethel doesn’t need you half so much, for her hair curls naturally, and mine always takes an unruly turn when it sees my best dress, and refuses to lie as I want it.”The listeners opened their eyes significantly, for no one had ever seen Kate’s hair untidy, and it was impossible to imagine the lank locks exhibiting roving propensities; but Pixie smiled, and that was all that had been desired. Pixie flicked the tears away and cried eagerly—“I’ll plait it in four, like I used to do Bridgie’s when she went visiting. You wouldn’t believe the style there is to ut. Esmeralda said no one would believe that it was really her own. It was for all the world as if she had bought a plait and stuck it on. I’ll make yours look like that too, if you’ll give me time!”“Oh, I’ll give you time!” laughed Kate pleasantly. Her conscience misgave her when she thought of her behaviour during the last days, and saw how ready the child was to forgive the cold contempt with which she had been treated. It was pleasant, too, to hear again of Bridgie and Esmeralda, who had been so long unmentioned, and who must really be the funniest creatures! And now that the poor little scrap was to be punished in such drastic fashion, one might venture to show pity without being accused of encouraging wickedness. After all, she had so far been convicted of no worse crime than obstinacy.Unfortunately for Pixie, some of her companions took a different view of Miss Phipps’s decision, seeing in it a proof that the Principal at least was convinced of her guilt, and so felt themselves bound to follow her example by ostracising the offender. Some of Lottie’s followers were among the number, and that young lady found herself in the difficult position of being drawn two ways at once, for she had vowed to befriend Pixie, yet was loth to risk her popularity by acting in opposition to the general feeling. She took refuge in an easy neutrality, remaining silent when gibing words were passed from mouth to mouth, and avoiding every opportunity of coming into contact with Pixie herself. With so many girls about and the rush of examination work on hand, this was easy enough to accomplish, for Lottie was ambitious, and made special effort to come out in a good position on the list. Every evening she pored over books to “stew” up the subject of the next day’s exam, and every morning seated herself before her desk, and became immediately immersed in the paper before her. Oh, those papers, what agony and confusion of spirit they brought to one poor scholar at least! Pixie had been informed that the secret of examination work was to carefully read over the list of questions, and then set to work at once on the one she could answer best, be it number one or six; but what was a poor girl to do when she was convinced that she could not answer one at all? No one had even imagined such a position, and yet it was the one in which she found herself over and over again during those last miserable days. She was so unused to examination work that the formal wording of the questions frequently disguised their meaning, and made her imagine ignorance when in reality she could have answered correctly enough; and oh, what misery to look around the room and see every other girl scribbling for her life, and looking as if the only difficulty was lack of time to write all she knew!Pixie’s mode of proceeding was to print an elaborate heading to her paper, and while away a quarter of an hour in adding ornamental flourishes to the double lines, and in elaborately darkening the down-strokes of her capitals. Then she would scribble on her blotting-paper, dropping intentional blots upon a clean page, and weaving them into a connected picture with no little skill and ingenuity. At this point a sharp reminder from teacher or scholar would bring her back to another melancholy perusal of the paper, and she would read and read the questions, in the melancholy hope of finding them grown more easy for the time of waiting.Sometimes a query was put in so straightforward a form that it was possible to answer it in a single word, and then with glee Pixie would print “Question two” in ornamental characters, and write “Yes!” underneath it with a glow of exhilaration. At other times, as in the grammar paper, a question would make no calls on the memory, but would, so to speak, supply its own material, when she attacked it with more haste than discretion in her delight at finding something which she could really accomplish.To give an example—Miss Bruce, the English teacher, quoted the sentence, “How sharper than a serpent’s tooth is an ungrateful child!” and asked to have it paraphrased so as to show the two predicates which made it into a complex sentence. Pixie licked her lips over this opportunity, and squeak, squeak, squeak, went her pen along the paper, making the other girls look up and raise their eyebrows at one another in surprised comment. Writing at last, and so eagerly too! Pixie must surely have an inspiration at last; and so she had, for the big straggly writing set forth an extraordinary sentence: “How sharper it is to have an ungrateful child, than it is to have a serpent’s tooth!”“Humph!” mused Pixie, gnawing her pen, “there’s a queer sound to it too. If I didn’t know for sure it was right, I’d be just as certain it was wrong!” and so the paraphrase remained, to astonish the eyes of Miss Bruce, and give her a hearty laugh in the midst of the dreary work of reading examination papers that evening.“Well, who comes out first in the exams it is impossible to say, but there is no doubt who will be last! I don’t think Pixie O’Shaughnessy will get more than a dozen marks for a single paper she has written,” was the remark of a certain Evelyn, one of the leaders of the anti-Pixie faction, on the day before the breaking-up party. “We used to think her clever, but it was only a bubble, which has collapsed utterly the last few weeks. A guilty conscience—that’s my explanation! I call her a hardened little wretch, for she doesn’t seem to mind a bit not being allowed to come down to-morrow. You might have thought that she would be perfectly miserable, but instead of that she really seems in better spirits than before.”“She does, and she likes to hear about the party, too! Just watch her when we are talking about it, and she is all eyes and ears. We saw some of the refreshments coming in to-day, and she positively beamed! I said, ‘Those are for supper to-morrow!’ and she said, ‘Are they as nice as usual? Do you think it will be as grand as last year? Will you have every single thing just the same as if Miss Phipps hadn’t been angry?’ I said that if Miss Phipps did a thing at all, she would do it properly, and that I was quite sure it would be quite as ‘grand,’ and she chuckled with delight, just as if she were going herself. I can’t make her out.”“Perhaps she thinks that Miss Phipps will relax at the last moment, but if she does, she is very much mistaken. There will be no pardon for her until she speaks the truth. As I said before, I believe she is just a hardened little wretch who doesn’t care what happens to her, and that is why she doesn’t show any sign of feeling.”“She has looked miserable enough until now. Why not give her the benefit of the doubt, and believe that, whether she is guilty or not, she is generous enough to be glad that the whole school is not to be punished?” asked Margaret gently. “Whatever Pixie has done, she is too warm-hearted to be called ‘hardened,’ and I think some of you girls make a great mistake in treating her as you do. You will never do any good by bullying, for she is so terrified at anything like unkindness that it makes it still more difficult to speak. You would have more influence if you were kinder to her.”“Oh, Margaret, you are so absurdly good-natured! It’s always the same cry with you. You would forgive everybody, if you had your way!” cried Evelyn impatiently, and promptly flounced across the room, leaving Margaret and Lottie alone by the fire. They looked at each other in silence, and then Margaret summoned up courage to make an appeal which she had been meditating for some days past.“They won’t listen to me, Lottie, but they would if you asked them. It is really cruel to be always gibing and jeering as they are, and the older girls ought to set a better example. You are fond of Pixie too, and want to do the best for her. Can’t you persuade your friends to treat her better for the rest of the term?”Lottie shrugged her shoulders impatiently, and frowned in worried, discontented fashion.“It is only three days longer. What is the use of making a fuss? It is idiotic of Pixie not to tell what she was doing in Mademoiselle’s room, and I can’t go about lecturing the whole school because she chooses to be obstinate! I am going to invite her to stay with me in the holidays, and will give her a good time to make up for all this. What’s the good of worrying? The girls will be too busy packing and preparing for the party to think of her any more now.”This was true enough, so true that Margaret could say no more, though she could not suppress the reflection that Lottie might have given the clue weeks before, if she had been so disposed. “But, as she says, the worst is over. Nothing much can happen in three days,” she told herself consolingly; wherein she was for something very exciting indeed was fated to happen before half that time had elapsed!

“Girls,” announced Miss Phipps after tea, two evenings later, “I have something to tell you which I am sure you will be delighted, and also much touched to hear. You have, I suppose, taken for granted that no breaking-up party would be held this term, as I have unfortunately had to deprive you of all holidays and excursions. For myself, I had put the matter entirely aside, as out of keeping with our present position, but you have had an advocate whom I have found it impossible to refuse. Someone has pleaded your cause so eloquently that she has gained the day, and I have now to announce that your party will be held as usual on Wednesday next, a few days before we break up. Don’t thank me, please! It is someone else who deserves your thanks. Can you guess who it is?”

The girls were jumping about in their seats, all excitement and delight. Ethel was tossing her curls, Flora beaming from ear to ear, Kate’s eyes were dancing behind her spectacles, Margaret was looking across the table at Pixie with an anxious, scrutinising glance. Who could it be—this unknown champion? There were whispering and consulting on every side, but the first suggestions fell wide of the mark.

“Mrs Vane!” said one, mentioning the name of the giver of the “Alice Prize,” which was held in such importance in the school. But no, it was not Mrs Vane. “Miss Ewing!” cried another, naming a friend of Miss Phipps, who on one memorable occasion had begged a holiday for the entire school; but it was not Miss Ewing. “Nearer home, nearer home! She is in this room now!” cried Miss Phipps, laughing; and then it was impossible to look at Mademoiselle’s red cheeks and remain in doubt any longer.

The gasp of surprise, of gratitude, of admiration that went round the room was the most eloquent acknowledgment of the generosity which had prompted the request, and Mademoiselle grew redder than ever, as she reflected that she would not have deserved any thanks had it not been for the suggestion of another. She looked instinctively at Pixie, and met a smile which reached from ear to ear, and was fairly beaming over with exultation. No one in the room looked so beamingly happy, but the next moment the smile gave way to a startled expression, as Miss Phipps continued slowly—

“There is one girl whom I am unfortunately obliged to except in giving my invitation, and that is Pixie O’Shaughnessy. Whether she is guilty of really breaking Mademoiselle’s scent-bottle or not, it is impossible for me to say, but a suspicion has rested upon her which she has persistently refused to remove. I cannot allow a girl who defies my authority to be among us on such an occasion, and though the fact that she is in disgrace will cast a shadow over our evening, I consider that I have no choice in the matter. On Wednesday night, then, Pixie, you will have tea by yourself in the schoolroom, and go up to bed at seven o’clock.”

“I will, Miss Phipps,” said Pixie faintly. She had blushed until her face was crimson from the roots of her hair to the tip of her chin, and her face stood out like a vivid peony among those of her companions. Everyone looked at her, and the glances were more kindly than they had been for many a day; for it is easy to be sympathetic when we get our own way, and have shifted the burden off our own shoulders on to those of another. When the Principal left the room, attention was almost equally divided between Mademoiselle and Pixie, who were each surrounded by a group of excited talkers.

“Oh, Maddie, I do call you an angel! It was simply sweet of you to plead for us when you have been the one to suffer. I’ll love you for ever for this!”

“So shall I, Maddie, and you’ll see how well I’ll do my verbs! I’ll never worry you any more, but be so good and industrious. Dance with me, do, the first waltz, and I’ll be gentleman, and not let you bump into anybody!”

“Pixie dear, I’m so sorry, but you would rather the girls had their party even if you couldn’t go, wouldn’t you, dear?”—this from Margaret, while Lottie tossed her head and said—

“She needn’t distress herself! There is nothing to make a fuss about. Party, indeed! A fine sort of party! No one comes, and it is just like any other night, except that you dance and wear your best things!”

“And have programmes, and trifles, and jellies, and crackers, and all sorts of good things, and sit up until ten o’clock! But I’m awfully sorry you can’t come, Pixie. If I get a chance I’ll bring you something upstairs from the supper-table. You can’t put lumps of jelly in your pocket, but if there is anything dry, I’ll bring it to you when I go to bed!”

“So will I, Pixie. My party frock has a baggy front, so I can carry a lot. I could get a whole cheese-cake in when no one was looking. Or would you rather have a mince pie?”

“I think I’d rather have—both,” said Pixie sadly. “I shall be so hungry, lying alone repining! I have never been to a party except once, at Bally William, and that wasn’t a party either, for there was only me and two other boys, and the girls of the house, but we had crackers all the same, and I got an elegant little fan. The same I offered to you, Lottie, when you went out last time!”

“I remember, but it didn’t go with my dress. That’s another thing, Pixie—you haven’t a dress to wear, so it’s just as well you aren’t asked, after all! I managed to make you presentable for a half-term evening, but that old frock of yours would never do for a breaking-up party.”

Well, Lottie evidently intended to be comforting, but she had an extraordinary tactless way of going about it, Kate reflected angrily. She herself had a much happier inspiration, when she said with an elaborate affectation of relief—

“And it’s an ill wind that blows nobody good! What we should have done without you to help us to dress, I really don’t know! Mind you come to me first now. Ethel doesn’t need you half so much, for her hair curls naturally, and mine always takes an unruly turn when it sees my best dress, and refuses to lie as I want it.”

The listeners opened their eyes significantly, for no one had ever seen Kate’s hair untidy, and it was impossible to imagine the lank locks exhibiting roving propensities; but Pixie smiled, and that was all that had been desired. Pixie flicked the tears away and cried eagerly—

“I’ll plait it in four, like I used to do Bridgie’s when she went visiting. You wouldn’t believe the style there is to ut. Esmeralda said no one would believe that it was really her own. It was for all the world as if she had bought a plait and stuck it on. I’ll make yours look like that too, if you’ll give me time!”

“Oh, I’ll give you time!” laughed Kate pleasantly. Her conscience misgave her when she thought of her behaviour during the last days, and saw how ready the child was to forgive the cold contempt with which she had been treated. It was pleasant, too, to hear again of Bridgie and Esmeralda, who had been so long unmentioned, and who must really be the funniest creatures! And now that the poor little scrap was to be punished in such drastic fashion, one might venture to show pity without being accused of encouraging wickedness. After all, she had so far been convicted of no worse crime than obstinacy.

Unfortunately for Pixie, some of her companions took a different view of Miss Phipps’s decision, seeing in it a proof that the Principal at least was convinced of her guilt, and so felt themselves bound to follow her example by ostracising the offender. Some of Lottie’s followers were among the number, and that young lady found herself in the difficult position of being drawn two ways at once, for she had vowed to befriend Pixie, yet was loth to risk her popularity by acting in opposition to the general feeling. She took refuge in an easy neutrality, remaining silent when gibing words were passed from mouth to mouth, and avoiding every opportunity of coming into contact with Pixie herself. With so many girls about and the rush of examination work on hand, this was easy enough to accomplish, for Lottie was ambitious, and made special effort to come out in a good position on the list. Every evening she pored over books to “stew” up the subject of the next day’s exam, and every morning seated herself before her desk, and became immediately immersed in the paper before her. Oh, those papers, what agony and confusion of spirit they brought to one poor scholar at least! Pixie had been informed that the secret of examination work was to carefully read over the list of questions, and then set to work at once on the one she could answer best, be it number one or six; but what was a poor girl to do when she was convinced that she could not answer one at all? No one had even imagined such a position, and yet it was the one in which she found herself over and over again during those last miserable days. She was so unused to examination work that the formal wording of the questions frequently disguised their meaning, and made her imagine ignorance when in reality she could have answered correctly enough; and oh, what misery to look around the room and see every other girl scribbling for her life, and looking as if the only difficulty was lack of time to write all she knew!

Pixie’s mode of proceeding was to print an elaborate heading to her paper, and while away a quarter of an hour in adding ornamental flourishes to the double lines, and in elaborately darkening the down-strokes of her capitals. Then she would scribble on her blotting-paper, dropping intentional blots upon a clean page, and weaving them into a connected picture with no little skill and ingenuity. At this point a sharp reminder from teacher or scholar would bring her back to another melancholy perusal of the paper, and she would read and read the questions, in the melancholy hope of finding them grown more easy for the time of waiting.

Sometimes a query was put in so straightforward a form that it was possible to answer it in a single word, and then with glee Pixie would print “Question two” in ornamental characters, and write “Yes!” underneath it with a glow of exhilaration. At other times, as in the grammar paper, a question would make no calls on the memory, but would, so to speak, supply its own material, when she attacked it with more haste than discretion in her delight at finding something which she could really accomplish.

To give an example—Miss Bruce, the English teacher, quoted the sentence, “How sharper than a serpent’s tooth is an ungrateful child!” and asked to have it paraphrased so as to show the two predicates which made it into a complex sentence. Pixie licked her lips over this opportunity, and squeak, squeak, squeak, went her pen along the paper, making the other girls look up and raise their eyebrows at one another in surprised comment. Writing at last, and so eagerly too! Pixie must surely have an inspiration at last; and so she had, for the big straggly writing set forth an extraordinary sentence: “How sharper it is to have an ungrateful child, than it is to have a serpent’s tooth!”

“Humph!” mused Pixie, gnawing her pen, “there’s a queer sound to it too. If I didn’t know for sure it was right, I’d be just as certain it was wrong!” and so the paraphrase remained, to astonish the eyes of Miss Bruce, and give her a hearty laugh in the midst of the dreary work of reading examination papers that evening.

“Well, who comes out first in the exams it is impossible to say, but there is no doubt who will be last! I don’t think Pixie O’Shaughnessy will get more than a dozen marks for a single paper she has written,” was the remark of a certain Evelyn, one of the leaders of the anti-Pixie faction, on the day before the breaking-up party. “We used to think her clever, but it was only a bubble, which has collapsed utterly the last few weeks. A guilty conscience—that’s my explanation! I call her a hardened little wretch, for she doesn’t seem to mind a bit not being allowed to come down to-morrow. You might have thought that she would be perfectly miserable, but instead of that she really seems in better spirits than before.”

“She does, and she likes to hear about the party, too! Just watch her when we are talking about it, and she is all eyes and ears. We saw some of the refreshments coming in to-day, and she positively beamed! I said, ‘Those are for supper to-morrow!’ and she said, ‘Are they as nice as usual? Do you think it will be as grand as last year? Will you have every single thing just the same as if Miss Phipps hadn’t been angry?’ I said that if Miss Phipps did a thing at all, she would do it properly, and that I was quite sure it would be quite as ‘grand,’ and she chuckled with delight, just as if she were going herself. I can’t make her out.”

“Perhaps she thinks that Miss Phipps will relax at the last moment, but if she does, she is very much mistaken. There will be no pardon for her until she speaks the truth. As I said before, I believe she is just a hardened little wretch who doesn’t care what happens to her, and that is why she doesn’t show any sign of feeling.”

“She has looked miserable enough until now. Why not give her the benefit of the doubt, and believe that, whether she is guilty or not, she is generous enough to be glad that the whole school is not to be punished?” asked Margaret gently. “Whatever Pixie has done, she is too warm-hearted to be called ‘hardened,’ and I think some of you girls make a great mistake in treating her as you do. You will never do any good by bullying, for she is so terrified at anything like unkindness that it makes it still more difficult to speak. You would have more influence if you were kinder to her.”

“Oh, Margaret, you are so absurdly good-natured! It’s always the same cry with you. You would forgive everybody, if you had your way!” cried Evelyn impatiently, and promptly flounced across the room, leaving Margaret and Lottie alone by the fire. They looked at each other in silence, and then Margaret summoned up courage to make an appeal which she had been meditating for some days past.

“They won’t listen to me, Lottie, but they would if you asked them. It is really cruel to be always gibing and jeering as they are, and the older girls ought to set a better example. You are fond of Pixie too, and want to do the best for her. Can’t you persuade your friends to treat her better for the rest of the term?”

Lottie shrugged her shoulders impatiently, and frowned in worried, discontented fashion.

“It is only three days longer. What is the use of making a fuss? It is idiotic of Pixie not to tell what she was doing in Mademoiselle’s room, and I can’t go about lecturing the whole school because she chooses to be obstinate! I am going to invite her to stay with me in the holidays, and will give her a good time to make up for all this. What’s the good of worrying? The girls will be too busy packing and preparing for the party to think of her any more now.”

This was true enough, so true that Margaret could say no more, though she could not suppress the reflection that Lottie might have given the clue weeks before, if she had been so disposed. “But, as she says, the worst is over. Nothing much can happen in three days,” she told herself consolingly; wherein she was for something very exciting indeed was fated to happen before half that time had elapsed!

Chapter Twelve.The Discovery.The next afternoon all was bustle and confusion in Holly House, servants setting the tables in the dining-room, and clearing the large classroom, in preparation for the party, and governesses and pupils dressing themselves with as much care as though they expected to meet a hundred strangers, instead of the everyday school set, without a single addition. Dresses which had not seen the light since the half-term-holiday were brought forth once more, with such additions in the shape of sashes, flowers, and gloves as befitted the greater importance of the occasion, and in her own bedroom Pixie O’Shaughnessy was whisking to and fro, attending to the wants of three exacting mistresses, who all seemed to require her at one and the same moment.“Hi, Pixie, come here! This place is getting knee-deep in clothes. Just put them away.”“Now then, Pixie. I’m waiting for this hair-dressing! You make it look like an artificial plait, or there’ll be trouble in this camp.”“Oh–h, bother! The more hurry the less speed. Now I’ve broken this tape. Has anyone got a bodkin? No, of course not! There never is a bodkin when I want one. You’ll have to manage with a hairpin, Pixie, and be sharp about it. I shall be late for tea at this rate!” So on, and so on, and at each summons in rushed an eager little worker, so deft, so willing, so incredibly quick in her movements, that her mistresses were overcome with admiration.“Your hands do you more credit than your brains, young woman!” pronounced Kate judicially. “You will never be a mistress of a High School; but you are a born lady’s-maid, and you can come to me for a reference when you need it.”“That’s what Esmeralda says. I am going to be her maid when she marries the duke. He comes down to hunt near Bally William, but he really lives in England, in the most beautiful palace, with peacocks on the lawn. Esmeralda’s going to have the drawing-room papered in yellow, to suit her complexion, and to set the fashion of having little sisters to wait upon you, like pages in old story-books,” returned Pixie, with her mouth full of hairpins, and there was a rustle of excitement in the different cubicles.“Esmeralda engaged! You never told us! To a duke. Which duke? How lovely for her! When are they going to get married?”“Now indeed I can’t tell you!” returned Pixie regretfully. She was proudly conscious of having made a sensation, and it did seem hard to be obliged to dispel it as soon as it was made! “There’s nothing settled, for, to tell you the truth, he has never so much as seen her yet, but she was visiting old Biddy Gallagher when he drove past to the meet, and at lunch says she, ‘He’s the elegant creature, that duke! I’m thinking of marrying him myself!’ and took Bridgie’s advice on the trousseau that very afternoon. She says she won’t be engaged until she is twenty-one, and that it’s a pity to unsettle him about it yet awhile, as there’s over two years to wait. He wouldn’t want to wait if he saw her, for she’s more beautiful than anyone you ever saw out of a picture, though it’s himself I pity when the tantrums is on her. We often talk about it, and plan how we will spend his money, and if you want to put her in a good temper you’ve nothing to do but call her ‘Your Grace!’”“I never heard anything so silly!” cried Ethel scornfully. Kate gave a mild “He, he!” as she watched the process of hair-dressing in the mirror, and reflected pensively that spectacles seemed strangely out of keeping with evening dress. There was no doubt about it, she was astonishingly plain, and oh, how nice it must be to be beautiful like Esmeralda—so beautiful that even your own brothers and sisters admired you! It was a natural longing, for every girl wishes to be attractive to others, and feels a pang if obliged to realise that the tribute of admiration can never be hers; but Kate was too sensible to grieve long over impossibilities. “I shall have to be extra amiable to make up for it, that’s all!” she told herself philosophically, as she lifted the hand-glass, and wriggled about before the glass to view the effect of the new coiffure. It was most elaborate and hairdresser-windowish in effect, and if it were not exactly becoming, that was perhaps more her own misfortune than the fault of the operator, who had bestowed such pains upon the erection. So she declared truthfully enough that she had never felt so fine in her life, and threatened to sit at the piano the whole of the evening, so that all beholders might have an opportunity of admiring her “back hair.”Her toilet was now finished, but Ethel’s bows were waiting to be tied and smoothed out, and Flora had to be laced into her dress, and to be consoled when again visited with the dread of finishing her career as the fat woman in a show. Finally, the first bell for tea was heard pealing downstairs, and away ran the three girls, leaving poor Cinderella to tidy the cubicles, and almost forgetting to thank her for her services; for in truth they had been so cheerfully rendered as to appear a favour given, rather than received.Left to herself, Pixie stole into the corridor and flattened herself into a doorway to watch the gay figures descending the staircase. The tidying away could wait for a few moments, but it was not often that one had the opportunity of watching so festive a scene. Doors opened on every side, and out they came, one girl after another, so smart and fine that one could hardly recognise them for the blue-serged damsels of ordinary school life. Down the stairs they tripped, with rustlings of silk and crinklings of muslin, dainty white shoes, looking daintier than ever against the well-worn carpet. Such a crowd of girls, and each one looking brighter and happier than the one before. Lottie in white, Margaret in blue, with her brown hair coiled round her head in a shining chestnut coronet, one after another, until at last there was no one left, and silence reigned in the corridor, broken only by a little sniff and sigh from the shadow of a doorway. “And one little p–ig stayed at h–ome,” sighed Pixie, trying hard to laugh, and assiduously licking the tears from her cheeks, as she hung school skirts in the cupboards, and folded everyday garments on bedroom chairs, in readiness for use on the following day.“Now they are all sitting down and beginning to eat! There’ll be nothing but jam and cakes and elegant bread-and-butter—so thin you might eat a plateful, and starve upon it! I wonder what they’ll be sending me upstairs. I couldn’t look at a bit of plain food, but plum cake would be medicine to me. Me digestion was always delicate. Bridgie said so. ‘The child needs tempting!’ I’ve heard her say, over and over again, when the milk pudding came in at the door, and my appetite went out. I must go to the schoolroom now, I suppose, for Miss Phipps said I must be in my bed by seven. Ellen has the soft heart—I wouldn’t wonder if she brought me something nice to cheer me spirits!”Buoyed up by this hope, she ran off to the classroom, and there was Ellen herself at the door, looking at her with such kind, sorry-looking eyes, as if there was nothing she would like better than to carry her bodily downstairs.“Your tea is ready, Miss Pixie. Miss Emily’s orders were that I was not to bring you any cake, but I have brought something else that you will like better.”What could that be? Pixie rushed to the table, and oh, joy of joys, there lay a big fat letter with the Bally William postmark in the corner, and Bridgie’s dear, well-known writing straggling over its surface. No one in the world wrote such sweet letters as Bridgie, and how dear of her to time this one to arrive at the moment of all others when it was most desired! Pixie gloated over it with sparkling eyes, kissed it, hugged it, poked at it with her fingers to discover exactly how many sheets it might contain, and finally devoured it and the bread-and-butter together in one long beam of delight.“Littlest and dearest, do you want to see us all, and know what we are doing? It is eight o’clock, and we have had three dinners in succession, each lordly male waiting until the other had finished his meal before he could resign himself to come indoors, and at the third coming Molly sent for me to the kitchen to give warning for this day month, which same I took smiling, for it’s never a bribe she would take to leave Knock Castle while an O’Shaughnessy was within its walls. It’s Pat that’s sitting at the table now, eating apples and cracking nuts as languid as if the day was his own, and Esmeralda frowning thunder at him because she wants the table to draw a sketch for the newest picture, which is to make all our fortunes yet. The Major is reading the newspaper, and groaning aloud at every comma, because the Government has no sense at all, and the only man who could put things straight is tied by the heel by half a dozen children. The dogs are sitting in a circle round Pat, watching every bite with such big, longing eyes, and myself writing on my knee by the fire, with the ink on the fender,—looking threatening at the rug! Says Esmeralda, ‘Five days more, and we shall see her again,’ meaning yourself, to whom I write. ‘Will she be grown, I’m wondering! She’s too small altogether, and yet we don’t want our Pixie changed. And the mimic she is! Wait till we hear the fine English talk, and have her correcting us all, on account of our brogue!’ Then Pat must up and say there was no room for him and an English accent in the Castle at the same time, and the Major rebuked him, and asked was it for pleasure he paid as much for schooling as could be spent sensibly on as fine a hunter as a man could wish, and besought us all to put ourselves at your feet, and learn what you could teach us. Then Esmeralda sighed and clasped her hands, and says she, ‘It’s tired to death I am of my own family, and longing to meet somebody who has seen more of the world than Bally William. Couldn’t we tell the Pixie to bring home one of her friends with her, to divert us during the Christmas holidays?’ and at that we all called out together, for we have been dull without you, little one, and looking forward to a frolic on Christmas. Last year we were all too sad thinking of the dear mother, but this year she will want to see us happy. I am sure she sees us, and often and often when I sit alone sewing as she used to do, I think about her, and feel she is near still, and it’s only because my eyes are dim that I can’t see her. Well then, dearie, think over your friends, and decide which it shall be! There’s room at Castle Knock for anyone who has been kind to its baby, and it won’t be our fault if she hasn’t a happy memory of Old Ireland.”The letter went on for another sheet, but Pixie’s mind was so full of this new idea that she was hardly able to take in the words on which her eye rested. To take home a friend to Bally William! To give an invitation on her own account, and be able to show the glories of the dear old Castle! This was indeed a dazzling prospect, and the problem of deciding which friend it should be kept her occupied even when tea was over, and she was undergoing the humiliation of putting herself to bed in the chilly little cubicle. Should it be Margaret? No; for Margaret, with all her sweetness, had little sense of humour, and though Pixie could not reason out the matter for herself, she yet realised instinctively that she would be uncomfortable and out of place in the haphazard atmosphere of the Irish household. Should it be Kate? No, that would not do either, for at first sight Kate was not prepossessing, and the Major and the boys would certainly take a dislike to her straightway. Should it be Flora—dear, fat, good-tempered Flora? But what fun Esmeralda would make of her, to be sure, and how helpless she would be when attacked by the boys’ badinage! Pixie grew quite tired and sleepy puzzling out the question; her eyelids drooped down and down until the lashes rested upon her cheeks, and her thoughts passed unconsciously into dreams.Meantime, in the large classroom downstairs the other thirty pupils were enjoying themselves with a zest all the greater for the dullness of the weeks which had gone before. The floor had been sponged with milk until it was quite smooth and slippery, a table supplied with such refreshments as lemonade, ginger-beer, and sweet biscuits, was placed outside the door, and the violin pupils took it in turns to accompany the piano, so that nothing was lacking to enhance the grandeur of the occasion. Pretty little programmes were distributed around the room; blue for the ladies, pink for the “gentlemen,” and after each dance the couples marched round and round the room, conversing together as if they were at “a real party,” and tabooing the affairs of ordinary school life. Then the gentlemen deposited their partners on chairs, and inquired, “May I bring you a little refreshment?” until the last drop of lemonade was drained, and only crumbs remained in the cake-baskets. They were all flushed and panting with the vigour with which they had joined in the dance, and at last Miss Phipps thought it wise to call a halt.“Now, ladies and gentlemen, you must really sit down for ten minutes!” she cried laughingly. “If you get so overheated, you will be catching chills next, and I am sure you don’t want to be invalided just before the holidays. Come and take your places round the room, and we will ask Lottie to dance her pretty scarf-dance for us, as she looks the only cool member of the party. There’s your scarf, dear, in that drawer, and Miss Bruce will play for you. You dance so nicely that it is a pleasure to see it.”Lottie blushed with pleasure at such words of praise, and took her place in the centre of the room with smiling alacrity, and the watchers whispered admiringly to each other as they looked at the dainty, satin-clad figure. Lottie was not really pretty, but she was always so charmingly dressed that she gave the effect of beauty, and to-night in her gala frock she certainly looked her best. She danced gracefully and modestly, waving her chiffon scarf in the air, and moving it to and fro in a manner which looked easy enough, but which was in reality extremely difficult, and required no little effort of strength, so that by the time the dance was finished she was as flushed as her friends, and her breath came in quick, short pants. Poof—how hot she felt, and how tired! It was a relief to give the scarf into Mademoiselle’s outstretched hands, and be free to feel for a handkerchief with which to wipe the moisture from her brow. There was a little difficulty in finding her pocket, and the girls watched her fumbles with amused attention. It was a little pause in the evening’s entertainment, and for want of something better to do all eyes were fixed upon the figure which stood so prominently in the middle of the room. “Try again!” they cried encouragingly, and Lottie made yet another dive downwards. This time she was successful, for her hand disappeared into her pocket, and presently jerked upwards, bringing with it a small lace handkerchief rolled up into a ball, as if it had lain forgotten since the last time that the dress was worn. She flicked it in the air, and at that something flew out and clattered on the floor near her feet. Mademoiselle stooped to pick it up, and threw up her hands with a cry of dismay. It was a piece of glass, about half an inch in size, and in one corner was clearly discernible the end of an engraved letter—the letter “T!”

The next afternoon all was bustle and confusion in Holly House, servants setting the tables in the dining-room, and clearing the large classroom, in preparation for the party, and governesses and pupils dressing themselves with as much care as though they expected to meet a hundred strangers, instead of the everyday school set, without a single addition. Dresses which had not seen the light since the half-term-holiday were brought forth once more, with such additions in the shape of sashes, flowers, and gloves as befitted the greater importance of the occasion, and in her own bedroom Pixie O’Shaughnessy was whisking to and fro, attending to the wants of three exacting mistresses, who all seemed to require her at one and the same moment.

“Hi, Pixie, come here! This place is getting knee-deep in clothes. Just put them away.”

“Now then, Pixie. I’m waiting for this hair-dressing! You make it look like an artificial plait, or there’ll be trouble in this camp.”

“Oh–h, bother! The more hurry the less speed. Now I’ve broken this tape. Has anyone got a bodkin? No, of course not! There never is a bodkin when I want one. You’ll have to manage with a hairpin, Pixie, and be sharp about it. I shall be late for tea at this rate!” So on, and so on, and at each summons in rushed an eager little worker, so deft, so willing, so incredibly quick in her movements, that her mistresses were overcome with admiration.

“Your hands do you more credit than your brains, young woman!” pronounced Kate judicially. “You will never be a mistress of a High School; but you are a born lady’s-maid, and you can come to me for a reference when you need it.”

“That’s what Esmeralda says. I am going to be her maid when she marries the duke. He comes down to hunt near Bally William, but he really lives in England, in the most beautiful palace, with peacocks on the lawn. Esmeralda’s going to have the drawing-room papered in yellow, to suit her complexion, and to set the fashion of having little sisters to wait upon you, like pages in old story-books,” returned Pixie, with her mouth full of hairpins, and there was a rustle of excitement in the different cubicles.

“Esmeralda engaged! You never told us! To a duke. Which duke? How lovely for her! When are they going to get married?”

“Now indeed I can’t tell you!” returned Pixie regretfully. She was proudly conscious of having made a sensation, and it did seem hard to be obliged to dispel it as soon as it was made! “There’s nothing settled, for, to tell you the truth, he has never so much as seen her yet, but she was visiting old Biddy Gallagher when he drove past to the meet, and at lunch says she, ‘He’s the elegant creature, that duke! I’m thinking of marrying him myself!’ and took Bridgie’s advice on the trousseau that very afternoon. She says she won’t be engaged until she is twenty-one, and that it’s a pity to unsettle him about it yet awhile, as there’s over two years to wait. He wouldn’t want to wait if he saw her, for she’s more beautiful than anyone you ever saw out of a picture, though it’s himself I pity when the tantrums is on her. We often talk about it, and plan how we will spend his money, and if you want to put her in a good temper you’ve nothing to do but call her ‘Your Grace!’”

“I never heard anything so silly!” cried Ethel scornfully. Kate gave a mild “He, he!” as she watched the process of hair-dressing in the mirror, and reflected pensively that spectacles seemed strangely out of keeping with evening dress. There was no doubt about it, she was astonishingly plain, and oh, how nice it must be to be beautiful like Esmeralda—so beautiful that even your own brothers and sisters admired you! It was a natural longing, for every girl wishes to be attractive to others, and feels a pang if obliged to realise that the tribute of admiration can never be hers; but Kate was too sensible to grieve long over impossibilities. “I shall have to be extra amiable to make up for it, that’s all!” she told herself philosophically, as she lifted the hand-glass, and wriggled about before the glass to view the effect of the new coiffure. It was most elaborate and hairdresser-windowish in effect, and if it were not exactly becoming, that was perhaps more her own misfortune than the fault of the operator, who had bestowed such pains upon the erection. So she declared truthfully enough that she had never felt so fine in her life, and threatened to sit at the piano the whole of the evening, so that all beholders might have an opportunity of admiring her “back hair.”

Her toilet was now finished, but Ethel’s bows were waiting to be tied and smoothed out, and Flora had to be laced into her dress, and to be consoled when again visited with the dread of finishing her career as the fat woman in a show. Finally, the first bell for tea was heard pealing downstairs, and away ran the three girls, leaving poor Cinderella to tidy the cubicles, and almost forgetting to thank her for her services; for in truth they had been so cheerfully rendered as to appear a favour given, rather than received.

Left to herself, Pixie stole into the corridor and flattened herself into a doorway to watch the gay figures descending the staircase. The tidying away could wait for a few moments, but it was not often that one had the opportunity of watching so festive a scene. Doors opened on every side, and out they came, one girl after another, so smart and fine that one could hardly recognise them for the blue-serged damsels of ordinary school life. Down the stairs they tripped, with rustlings of silk and crinklings of muslin, dainty white shoes, looking daintier than ever against the well-worn carpet. Such a crowd of girls, and each one looking brighter and happier than the one before. Lottie in white, Margaret in blue, with her brown hair coiled round her head in a shining chestnut coronet, one after another, until at last there was no one left, and silence reigned in the corridor, broken only by a little sniff and sigh from the shadow of a doorway. “And one little p–ig stayed at h–ome,” sighed Pixie, trying hard to laugh, and assiduously licking the tears from her cheeks, as she hung school skirts in the cupboards, and folded everyday garments on bedroom chairs, in readiness for use on the following day.

“Now they are all sitting down and beginning to eat! There’ll be nothing but jam and cakes and elegant bread-and-butter—so thin you might eat a plateful, and starve upon it! I wonder what they’ll be sending me upstairs. I couldn’t look at a bit of plain food, but plum cake would be medicine to me. Me digestion was always delicate. Bridgie said so. ‘The child needs tempting!’ I’ve heard her say, over and over again, when the milk pudding came in at the door, and my appetite went out. I must go to the schoolroom now, I suppose, for Miss Phipps said I must be in my bed by seven. Ellen has the soft heart—I wouldn’t wonder if she brought me something nice to cheer me spirits!”

Buoyed up by this hope, she ran off to the classroom, and there was Ellen herself at the door, looking at her with such kind, sorry-looking eyes, as if there was nothing she would like better than to carry her bodily downstairs.

“Your tea is ready, Miss Pixie. Miss Emily’s orders were that I was not to bring you any cake, but I have brought something else that you will like better.”

What could that be? Pixie rushed to the table, and oh, joy of joys, there lay a big fat letter with the Bally William postmark in the corner, and Bridgie’s dear, well-known writing straggling over its surface. No one in the world wrote such sweet letters as Bridgie, and how dear of her to time this one to arrive at the moment of all others when it was most desired! Pixie gloated over it with sparkling eyes, kissed it, hugged it, poked at it with her fingers to discover exactly how many sheets it might contain, and finally devoured it and the bread-and-butter together in one long beam of delight.

“Littlest and dearest, do you want to see us all, and know what we are doing? It is eight o’clock, and we have had three dinners in succession, each lordly male waiting until the other had finished his meal before he could resign himself to come indoors, and at the third coming Molly sent for me to the kitchen to give warning for this day month, which same I took smiling, for it’s never a bribe she would take to leave Knock Castle while an O’Shaughnessy was within its walls. It’s Pat that’s sitting at the table now, eating apples and cracking nuts as languid as if the day was his own, and Esmeralda frowning thunder at him because she wants the table to draw a sketch for the newest picture, which is to make all our fortunes yet. The Major is reading the newspaper, and groaning aloud at every comma, because the Government has no sense at all, and the only man who could put things straight is tied by the heel by half a dozen children. The dogs are sitting in a circle round Pat, watching every bite with such big, longing eyes, and myself writing on my knee by the fire, with the ink on the fender,—looking threatening at the rug! Says Esmeralda, ‘Five days more, and we shall see her again,’ meaning yourself, to whom I write. ‘Will she be grown, I’m wondering! She’s too small altogether, and yet we don’t want our Pixie changed. And the mimic she is! Wait till we hear the fine English talk, and have her correcting us all, on account of our brogue!’ Then Pat must up and say there was no room for him and an English accent in the Castle at the same time, and the Major rebuked him, and asked was it for pleasure he paid as much for schooling as could be spent sensibly on as fine a hunter as a man could wish, and besought us all to put ourselves at your feet, and learn what you could teach us. Then Esmeralda sighed and clasped her hands, and says she, ‘It’s tired to death I am of my own family, and longing to meet somebody who has seen more of the world than Bally William. Couldn’t we tell the Pixie to bring home one of her friends with her, to divert us during the Christmas holidays?’ and at that we all called out together, for we have been dull without you, little one, and looking forward to a frolic on Christmas. Last year we were all too sad thinking of the dear mother, but this year she will want to see us happy. I am sure she sees us, and often and often when I sit alone sewing as she used to do, I think about her, and feel she is near still, and it’s only because my eyes are dim that I can’t see her. Well then, dearie, think over your friends, and decide which it shall be! There’s room at Castle Knock for anyone who has been kind to its baby, and it won’t be our fault if she hasn’t a happy memory of Old Ireland.”

The letter went on for another sheet, but Pixie’s mind was so full of this new idea that she was hardly able to take in the words on which her eye rested. To take home a friend to Bally William! To give an invitation on her own account, and be able to show the glories of the dear old Castle! This was indeed a dazzling prospect, and the problem of deciding which friend it should be kept her occupied even when tea was over, and she was undergoing the humiliation of putting herself to bed in the chilly little cubicle. Should it be Margaret? No; for Margaret, with all her sweetness, had little sense of humour, and though Pixie could not reason out the matter for herself, she yet realised instinctively that she would be uncomfortable and out of place in the haphazard atmosphere of the Irish household. Should it be Kate? No, that would not do either, for at first sight Kate was not prepossessing, and the Major and the boys would certainly take a dislike to her straightway. Should it be Flora—dear, fat, good-tempered Flora? But what fun Esmeralda would make of her, to be sure, and how helpless she would be when attacked by the boys’ badinage! Pixie grew quite tired and sleepy puzzling out the question; her eyelids drooped down and down until the lashes rested upon her cheeks, and her thoughts passed unconsciously into dreams.

Meantime, in the large classroom downstairs the other thirty pupils were enjoying themselves with a zest all the greater for the dullness of the weeks which had gone before. The floor had been sponged with milk until it was quite smooth and slippery, a table supplied with such refreshments as lemonade, ginger-beer, and sweet biscuits, was placed outside the door, and the violin pupils took it in turns to accompany the piano, so that nothing was lacking to enhance the grandeur of the occasion. Pretty little programmes were distributed around the room; blue for the ladies, pink for the “gentlemen,” and after each dance the couples marched round and round the room, conversing together as if they were at “a real party,” and tabooing the affairs of ordinary school life. Then the gentlemen deposited their partners on chairs, and inquired, “May I bring you a little refreshment?” until the last drop of lemonade was drained, and only crumbs remained in the cake-baskets. They were all flushed and panting with the vigour with which they had joined in the dance, and at last Miss Phipps thought it wise to call a halt.

“Now, ladies and gentlemen, you must really sit down for ten minutes!” she cried laughingly. “If you get so overheated, you will be catching chills next, and I am sure you don’t want to be invalided just before the holidays. Come and take your places round the room, and we will ask Lottie to dance her pretty scarf-dance for us, as she looks the only cool member of the party. There’s your scarf, dear, in that drawer, and Miss Bruce will play for you. You dance so nicely that it is a pleasure to see it.”

Lottie blushed with pleasure at such words of praise, and took her place in the centre of the room with smiling alacrity, and the watchers whispered admiringly to each other as they looked at the dainty, satin-clad figure. Lottie was not really pretty, but she was always so charmingly dressed that she gave the effect of beauty, and to-night in her gala frock she certainly looked her best. She danced gracefully and modestly, waving her chiffon scarf in the air, and moving it to and fro in a manner which looked easy enough, but which was in reality extremely difficult, and required no little effort of strength, so that by the time the dance was finished she was as flushed as her friends, and her breath came in quick, short pants. Poof—how hot she felt, and how tired! It was a relief to give the scarf into Mademoiselle’s outstretched hands, and be free to feel for a handkerchief with which to wipe the moisture from her brow. There was a little difficulty in finding her pocket, and the girls watched her fumbles with amused attention. It was a little pause in the evening’s entertainment, and for want of something better to do all eyes were fixed upon the figure which stood so prominently in the middle of the room. “Try again!” they cried encouragingly, and Lottie made yet another dive downwards. This time she was successful, for her hand disappeared into her pocket, and presently jerked upwards, bringing with it a small lace handkerchief rolled up into a ball, as if it had lain forgotten since the last time that the dress was worn. She flicked it in the air, and at that something flew out and clattered on the floor near her feet. Mademoiselle stooped to pick it up, and threw up her hands with a cry of dismay. It was a piece of glass, about half an inch in size, and in one corner was clearly discernible the end of an engraved letter—the letter “T!”

Chapter Thirteen.Explanations.“Pixie, awake! awake! Oh, Pixie, open your eyes! Get up, dear, get up! We want you downstairs!”Margaret bent over Pixie’s bedside, tears shining in her eyes, and lifting the slight figure in her arms, shook it to and fro, until the grey eyes opened in astonishment, and a sleepy voice murmured—“Is’t morning? Time get up?”“Morning, no! It is not nine o’clock, and Miss Phipps thought you would certainly be awake, with so much music going on; but it’s no use, I must wake you, whatever happens! Here’s your dressing-gown. Here are your bedroom slippers. You have to come downstairs with me this minute!”“Am I the queen?” asked Pixie, waking up all in a moment, and peering mischievously into Margaret’s face. “When you are wakened up in the middle of the night, and taken downstairs in your dressing-gown and slippers, it’s either a fire, or you are the queen, and the courtiers are waiting to kiss your hand. You know it is, Margaret! You have seen it in the pictures!”“Yes, I’ve seen it? and perhaps there may be courtiers waiting for you, Pixie; and kisses too, and a dear little crown to put on that shaggy head! Great excitements have happened since you went to bed, and we know now that it was not you who broke Mademoiselle’s scent-bottle. We are almost certain that it was Lottie herself, and Miss Phipps has sent for you to help us!”Pixie gave a start of dismay, and the laughter died out of her face, leaving it scared and white. Her fingers tightened round Margaret’s arm, and she hung back trembling as they neared the schoolroom door. Another moment and they stood within the threshold, looking round on what seemed suddenly to have taken upon itself the aspect of a court of justice. The girls were as before ranged round the walls, and at the end of the room stood a row of teachers; Fraulein and Miss Bruce flushed and excited, Mademoiselle with tears in her eyes, Miss Phipps with an awful sternness of expression, which gave place to a momentary softness as she looked at the new-comers. Pixie glanced at them all, one after the other, and from them to the figure standing in the centre of the room, like a prisoner at the bar, her face white as her dress, her eyes full of terror and despair. She gave a sharp cry of distress, and rushed forward with outstretched arms.“Lottie, Lottie, I didn’t tell! I never told—Lottie, Lottie, I kept my word!”A deep murmur sounded through the room as each hearer drew her breath in a sob of mingled conviction and regret, and of all the number Lottie seemed the most affected. She burst into a paroxysm of tears, clasped Pixie in an hysterical embrace, then, thrusting her aside, turned eagerly towards Miss Phipps.“Oh, I will tell—I will! It was all my fault—Pixie had nothing to do with it—I will tell you all about it.”“It is more than time, Lottie. Begin at once, and pray calm yourself until you have finished!” returned Miss Phipps coldly; and Lottie wiped away her tears, and struggled to keep back the rising sobs.“It was the night of the term-holiday—I was going out—I was dressed and going along the passage, and Mademoiselle’s door stood open, and I saw the light shining upon the gold of the scent-bottle. I had no scent of my own, and I thought I would go in and take a little of Mademoiselle’s. I knew she would give it to me if I asked, and if I told her next day there wouldn’t be any harm. But I was in a hurry, and I heard Pixie calling, and I put the bottle down too quickly, and the glass struck the corner of the table and fell into pieces in my hand. I was so frightened—and there was no time to think, for Pixie was running along the passage, so I just mopped up the scent with my handkerchief, and flew to the door. I suppose the piece of glass must have got in then, for the handkerchief has never been out of my pocket until to-night. Pixie said, ‘Oh, what a smell of scent!’ and I said something—I forget what—about its being rude to make remarks, and ran downstairs as quickly as I could go. I was so wretched all the evening I didn’t know what to do. I thought when it was found out Pixie would be sure to tell; but when I came home the girls all said how lucky I was to have been out, for no one could suspect me, and I said nothing. And I saw Mademoiselle crying, and I said nothing, and then I was afraid to speak, for it was too late! Pixie came to me next morning and said, ‘Lottie, they think I broke the bottle because I was the only girl in Mademoiselle’s room last night; but I know that you were there too, and that you had been taking some scent!’ and I begged and prayed her not to tell anyone else. I was so confused that I let her see I had broken it, but I said if she told I should get into trouble with my father, and she promised at once. She was so willing, that I didn’t feel as uncomfortable as I expected, but I was miserable when everyone blamed her, and she was punished. I comforted myself by thinking that I would ask her to stay with me in the holidays, and make it up to her then. She never told me what she was doing in Mademoiselle’s room—I tried to believe that she was really to blame. She might have cracked the bottle, and that was why it broke so easily!”“And so the best reward you could give to the friend who shielded you at her own expense was to suspect her of deceit! That will do, Lottie! You can go to your own room now. I will deal with you to-morrow. Now we will hear what Pixie has to say!”Miss Phipps paused impressively for a moment, and then spoke again in tones so sweet and gentle that it was difficult to recognise them as coming from the same voice which had spoken but a moment before.“Pixie, you have heard Lottie’s explanation. I will speak about that later on, but now I have a favour to ask you. For my sake, dear—for all our sakes—to help us to get at the whole truth of this unhappy affair, I ask you to tell me frankly what you were doing in Mademoiselle’s room when Ellen saw you there?”Pixie hung her head, and her cheeks grew am scarlet as the scarlet dressing-gown itself. She lifted one little slippered foot and stood perched on the other like a funny little ruffled stork in the midst of the shining floor, and the watching faces of the girls were pretty to see with their expressions of tender amusement and sympathy.“Please, Miss Phipps,” said Pixie hoarsely, “I was doing nothing. I was only after putting in the hot bottle!”Miss Phipps stared, Mademoiselle gave a sharp exclamation of surprise, and turned impetuously to her Principal.“The ’ot bottle! It is true. I ’ave one every night, but I thought that Ellen—that one of the maids—”“We have put no hot bottle in your bed, Mademoiselle. It is Miss Emily’s rule that any of the young ladies may have bottles of their own, if they take the trouble to fill them in the bathroom as they go to bed, and to put them back there in the morning. We never put one in a bed unless in the case of illness,” said Ellen, who stood in a corner of the room, one of the most anxious and interested of the spectators; and at that Miss Phipps turned once more to Pixie.“Then are we to understand that it was your own bottle of which you are talking? And what made you think of lending it to Mademoiselle?”“She told me that she was always cold,” said Pixie faintly. “I didn’t like to think of her lying there shivering. Bridgie gave me the bottle when I came away in a little red flannel cover. ‘You’re such a frog!’ says she, ‘maybe this will warm you,’ but I just roll my feet in my nightgown and hug them in my hands until they are warm. I thought perhaps Mademoiselle couldn’t do that. Ye can’t bend so easy when you’re old, so she needed the bottle most.”“Ma petite!” cried Mademoiselle. “Ma chérie!”—and she would have rushed forward and taken Pixie into her arms straight away, had not Miss Phipps held her back with a restraining touch.

“Pixie, awake! awake! Oh, Pixie, open your eyes! Get up, dear, get up! We want you downstairs!”

Margaret bent over Pixie’s bedside, tears shining in her eyes, and lifting the slight figure in her arms, shook it to and fro, until the grey eyes opened in astonishment, and a sleepy voice murmured—

“Is’t morning? Time get up?”

“Morning, no! It is not nine o’clock, and Miss Phipps thought you would certainly be awake, with so much music going on; but it’s no use, I must wake you, whatever happens! Here’s your dressing-gown. Here are your bedroom slippers. You have to come downstairs with me this minute!”

“Am I the queen?” asked Pixie, waking up all in a moment, and peering mischievously into Margaret’s face. “When you are wakened up in the middle of the night, and taken downstairs in your dressing-gown and slippers, it’s either a fire, or you are the queen, and the courtiers are waiting to kiss your hand. You know it is, Margaret! You have seen it in the pictures!”

“Yes, I’ve seen it? and perhaps there may be courtiers waiting for you, Pixie; and kisses too, and a dear little crown to put on that shaggy head! Great excitements have happened since you went to bed, and we know now that it was not you who broke Mademoiselle’s scent-bottle. We are almost certain that it was Lottie herself, and Miss Phipps has sent for you to help us!”

Pixie gave a start of dismay, and the laughter died out of her face, leaving it scared and white. Her fingers tightened round Margaret’s arm, and she hung back trembling as they neared the schoolroom door. Another moment and they stood within the threshold, looking round on what seemed suddenly to have taken upon itself the aspect of a court of justice. The girls were as before ranged round the walls, and at the end of the room stood a row of teachers; Fraulein and Miss Bruce flushed and excited, Mademoiselle with tears in her eyes, Miss Phipps with an awful sternness of expression, which gave place to a momentary softness as she looked at the new-comers. Pixie glanced at them all, one after the other, and from them to the figure standing in the centre of the room, like a prisoner at the bar, her face white as her dress, her eyes full of terror and despair. She gave a sharp cry of distress, and rushed forward with outstretched arms.

“Lottie, Lottie, I didn’t tell! I never told—Lottie, Lottie, I kept my word!”

A deep murmur sounded through the room as each hearer drew her breath in a sob of mingled conviction and regret, and of all the number Lottie seemed the most affected. She burst into a paroxysm of tears, clasped Pixie in an hysterical embrace, then, thrusting her aside, turned eagerly towards Miss Phipps.

“Oh, I will tell—I will! It was all my fault—Pixie had nothing to do with it—I will tell you all about it.”

“It is more than time, Lottie. Begin at once, and pray calm yourself until you have finished!” returned Miss Phipps coldly; and Lottie wiped away her tears, and struggled to keep back the rising sobs.

“It was the night of the term-holiday—I was going out—I was dressed and going along the passage, and Mademoiselle’s door stood open, and I saw the light shining upon the gold of the scent-bottle. I had no scent of my own, and I thought I would go in and take a little of Mademoiselle’s. I knew she would give it to me if I asked, and if I told her next day there wouldn’t be any harm. But I was in a hurry, and I heard Pixie calling, and I put the bottle down too quickly, and the glass struck the corner of the table and fell into pieces in my hand. I was so frightened—and there was no time to think, for Pixie was running along the passage, so I just mopped up the scent with my handkerchief, and flew to the door. I suppose the piece of glass must have got in then, for the handkerchief has never been out of my pocket until to-night. Pixie said, ‘Oh, what a smell of scent!’ and I said something—I forget what—about its being rude to make remarks, and ran downstairs as quickly as I could go. I was so wretched all the evening I didn’t know what to do. I thought when it was found out Pixie would be sure to tell; but when I came home the girls all said how lucky I was to have been out, for no one could suspect me, and I said nothing. And I saw Mademoiselle crying, and I said nothing, and then I was afraid to speak, for it was too late! Pixie came to me next morning and said, ‘Lottie, they think I broke the bottle because I was the only girl in Mademoiselle’s room last night; but I know that you were there too, and that you had been taking some scent!’ and I begged and prayed her not to tell anyone else. I was so confused that I let her see I had broken it, but I said if she told I should get into trouble with my father, and she promised at once. She was so willing, that I didn’t feel as uncomfortable as I expected, but I was miserable when everyone blamed her, and she was punished. I comforted myself by thinking that I would ask her to stay with me in the holidays, and make it up to her then. She never told me what she was doing in Mademoiselle’s room—I tried to believe that she was really to blame. She might have cracked the bottle, and that was why it broke so easily!”

“And so the best reward you could give to the friend who shielded you at her own expense was to suspect her of deceit! That will do, Lottie! You can go to your own room now. I will deal with you to-morrow. Now we will hear what Pixie has to say!”

Miss Phipps paused impressively for a moment, and then spoke again in tones so sweet and gentle that it was difficult to recognise them as coming from the same voice which had spoken but a moment before.

“Pixie, you have heard Lottie’s explanation. I will speak about that later on, but now I have a favour to ask you. For my sake, dear—for all our sakes—to help us to get at the whole truth of this unhappy affair, I ask you to tell me frankly what you were doing in Mademoiselle’s room when Ellen saw you there?”

Pixie hung her head, and her cheeks grew am scarlet as the scarlet dressing-gown itself. She lifted one little slippered foot and stood perched on the other like a funny little ruffled stork in the midst of the shining floor, and the watching faces of the girls were pretty to see with their expressions of tender amusement and sympathy.

“Please, Miss Phipps,” said Pixie hoarsely, “I was doing nothing. I was only after putting in the hot bottle!”

Miss Phipps stared, Mademoiselle gave a sharp exclamation of surprise, and turned impetuously to her Principal.

“The ’ot bottle! It is true. I ’ave one every night, but I thought that Ellen—that one of the maids—”

“We have put no hot bottle in your bed, Mademoiselle. It is Miss Emily’s rule that any of the young ladies may have bottles of their own, if they take the trouble to fill them in the bathroom as they go to bed, and to put them back there in the morning. We never put one in a bed unless in the case of illness,” said Ellen, who stood in a corner of the room, one of the most anxious and interested of the spectators; and at that Miss Phipps turned once more to Pixie.

“Then are we to understand that it was your own bottle of which you are talking? And what made you think of lending it to Mademoiselle?”

“She told me that she was always cold,” said Pixie faintly. “I didn’t like to think of her lying there shivering. Bridgie gave me the bottle when I came away in a little red flannel cover. ‘You’re such a frog!’ says she, ‘maybe this will warm you,’ but I just roll my feet in my nightgown and hug them in my hands until they are warm. I thought perhaps Mademoiselle couldn’t do that. Ye can’t bend so easy when you’re old, so she needed the bottle most.”

“Ma petite!” cried Mademoiselle. “Ma chérie!”—and she would have rushed forward and taken Pixie into her arms straight away, had not Miss Phipps held her back with a restraining touch.

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