"Does he live here?"

"No--two miles off, at a large hall."

"Is he a good man?"

"He is a clergyman, and is said to do a great deal of good."

"Did you say that tall lady was called Miss Temple?"

"Yes."

"And what are the other teachers called?"

"The one with red cheeks is called Miss Smith; she attends to the

work, and cuts out--for we make our own clothes, our frocks, and

pelisses, and everything; the little one with black hair is Miss

Scatcherd; she teaches history and grammar, and hears the second

class repetitions; and the one who wears a shawl, and has a pocket-

handkerchief tied to her side with a yellow ribband, is Madame

Pierrot: she comes from Lisle, in France, and teaches French."

"Do you like the teachers?"

"Well enough."

"Do you like the little black one, and the Madame -?--I cannot

pronounce her name as you do."

"Miss Scatcherd is hasty--you must take care not to offend her;

Madame Pierrot is not a bad sort of person."

"But Miss Temple is the best--isn't she?"

"Miss Temple is very good and very clever; she is above the rest,

because she knows far more than they do."

"Have you been long here?"

"Two years."

"Are you an orphan?"

"My mother is dead."

"Are you happy here?"

"You ask rather too many questions. I have given you answers enough

for the present: now I want to read."

But at that moment the summons sounded for dinner; all re-entered

the house. The odour which now filled the refectory was scarcely

more appetising than that which had regaled our nostrils at

breakfast: the dinner was served in two huge tin-plated vessels,

whence rose a strong steam redolent of rancid fat. I found the mess

to consist of indifferent potatoes and strange shreds of rusty meat,

mixed and cooked together. Of this preparation a tolerably abundant

plateful was apportioned to each pupil. I ate what I could, and

wondered within myself whether every day's fare would be like this.

After dinner, we immediately adjourned to the schoolroom: lessons

recommenced, and were continued till five o'clock.

The only marked event of the afternoon was, that I saw the girl with

whom I had conversed in the verandah dismissed in disgrace by Miss

Scatcherd from a history class, and sent to stand in the middle of

the large schoolroom. The punishment seemed to me in a high degree

ignominious, especially for so great a girl--she looked thirteen or

upwards. I expected she would show signs of great distress and

shame; but to my surprise she neither wept nor blushed: composed,

though grave, she stood, the central mark of all eyes. "How can she

bear it so quietly--so firmly?" I asked of myself. "Were I in her

place, it seems to me I should wish the earth to open and swallow me

up. She looks as if she were thinking of something beyond her

punishment--beyond her situation: of something not round her nor

before her. I have heard of day-dreams--is she in a day-dream now?

Her eyes are fixed on the floor, but I am sure they do not see it--

her sight seems turned in, gone down into her heart: she is looking

at what she can remember, I believe; not at what is really present.

I wonder what sort of a girl she is--whether good or naughty."




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