Fifty-Two Stories For Girls Part 10

The next day, when the first of her three sheets was finished, Miss Elton came in to examine it. Though she said little, she was evidently more than satisfied. It was nearly tea-time, and Maysie spent the few minutes before preparation was over in tearing up some old drawings.

After breakfast, on the following morning, before the bell rang for cla.s.s, she went over to Ruth Allen's desk to ask her how to spell "Mycetozoa." Ruth was her particular chum, and the best English scholar in the form.

"I've got something to show you, Maysie," she said, when she had furnished the desired information. She brought out a piece of paper as she spoke, and pa.s.sed it on to her friend behind the cover of her open desk. It was a fragment of one of Maysie's zoological drawing-sheets, evidently picked up out of the waste-paper basket--a wasp with wings outspread, showing the three divisions of an insect's body. The head was roughly altered so as to form a caricature of a human face, and above was printed, in letters that might have done credit to Maysie herself: "Miss E. in a tantrum," and below: "How doth the little waxy wasp rejoice to snap and snarl!"

Maysie did not share Ruth's unreasonable animosity towards Miss Elton, but she could not repress a smile at this specimen of school-girl wit.

Just then the bell rang, and she went back to her own desk, while Ruth, letting the lid of hers slip down, was so startled by the noise it made in the sudden silence that she did not see a piece of paper flutter out on to the ground, and gently glide underneath the platform of the mistress's desk, which was just in front of her.

That morning Maysie began her second sheet, and joined the others in the garden after dinner. Molly Brooks, another of her friends, came eagerly running up to her.

"Why didn't you come to botany?" she asked.

"I've been doing my exhibition work."

"Oh, of course! I suppose it's nearly finished?"

"About half. It hasn't to be sent off till next week, so there's plenty of time."

At that moment Ruth Allen linked her arm in Maysie's.

"I'm in my third row," she began casually.

"What, already?" asked Maysie.

"Yes, haven't you heard?" Molly chimed in.

"Oh, it's Miss Elton again!" went on Ruth. "We never can hit it off. You weren't at botany cla.s.s this morning."

"No, what happened?"

Ruth shrugged her shoulders. Molly looked expressively at Maysie. Ruth seldom got through a botany cla.s.s without an explosion.

"I hate botany," said Ruth recklessly, "and I hate Miss Elton. I'm supposed to be in silence now, but as Miss Bennet came in and told us all to go out, I thought I'd better not risk another disobedience mark."

Miss Elton, who had been stooping down over some flower-beds, in search of museum treasures, came up at this point. Her face was grave and white, and her manner very stern and quiet.

"What are you doing out here, Ruth?" she demanded.

"Miss Bennet sent us all out; she said it was such a lovely day,"

answered Ruth carelessly.

"Then you can go and explain to Miss Bennet why I told you to remain in this afternoon."

Ruth looked at Miss Elton, and then looked away; she slowly withdrew her arm from Maysie's, and walked off without a word. At the door she came face to face with Miss Bennet, the headmistress.

"Where are you going to, Ruth?" asked the latter.

"Miss Elton sent me in."

"Why?" There was grave rebuke in Miss Bennet's voice.

"Because I'm in silence."

"I do not understand why you were out at all."

Ruth made no attempt to defend herself.

"You'd better come to my room," continued Miss Bennet. "There is something here that needs explaining.... Now, what were you in silence for?" she continued, seating herself in her chair by the fire.

"I got sent out of botany cla.s.s."

"And how many times have you been sent out of botany cla.s.s?"

Ruth did not answer.

"Well, it has come to this, Ruth," Miss Bennet went on gravely, "that a girl of your age--you are fourteen now, I believe--can no longer be allowed to go on setting an example of insolence and disobedience to the younger girls in the school. Now, remember, this is the last time. Let me have no more complaints about you, or it will be my unpleasant duty to write to your mother, and tell her that you cannot remain here."

There was a pause. The colour had left Ruth's face, and she was staring moodily into the fire.

"You will apologise to Miss Elton," added Miss Bennet, rising, "and you will remain in silence at meals for the rest of the week. And try to make an effort over your botany. Your other work is good: you were top last week. Now, promise me that you will make an effort."

Ruth, moved to penitence at the thought of her mother, promised to do her best. That afternoon she apologised to Miss Elton, and made a resolution to keep out of rows for the rest of the term. Maysie and she walked about in the garden as usual, and talked things over. Maysie looked grave when Ruth told her what Miss Bennet had said about sending her away.

"Oh, Ruth!" she said, "you really must be careful! Why, if you got expelled, it would be almost as bad for me as if I were expelled myself.

Miss Elton's awfully nice, if you only knew. I had such a lovely talk with her on Sunday, all about home, and drawing. And then she's so jolly at games, and she's never cross when you don't cheek her. And think how horrid it must be for her whenever she comes to botany cla.s.s, always knowing that you're going to be dense! And you do do it on purpose sometimes, dear, you know you do."

Ruth forced a laugh.

"Oh, I'm going to be awfully good," she said. "You'll see!"

It was Sat.u.r.day the next day, and Maysie was just settling down to her drawing in the music-room, when Miss Elton appeared. Maysie looked up and smiled at her. It was no unusual thing for her science-mistress to come in and remark on her progress. But on this occasion no answering smile greeted her. Maysie was puzzled. Her inquiring grey eyes fell before Miss Elton's; she began to search her conscience. What had she done?

"I think it is a pity, Maysie," began Miss Elton, "that you put your talents to such an improfitable use."

As she spoke she laid before Maysie the paper that Ruth had exhibited to her in such triumph the day before. Maysie grew scarlet, and remained quite speechless. Her name up in the corner, the neat, even printing, so like her own, the altered diagram that Miss Elton had seen in its original form--they stared her in the face, condemning her beyond hope of appeal. She raised her head proudly, and tossed back the thick curly hair that hung over her shoulder.

"Where did it come from?" she asked.

"I picked it up from under the edge of my platform, but that is of no concern."

"But, Miss Elton----" stammered Maysie, growing suddenly confused.

"You have no excuse," put in Miss Elton, and her voice was all the harder because of the disappointment that she felt. "This is a piece of your paper, is it not?"

Maysie admitted that it was.

"And your diagram?"

"Yes; at least----"