"Now you understand! You're not going to be a little stupid any more, eh?"
"No," murmured Ivy.
Chris' watchful ears detected a suspicious creak, and he pulled up the drooping figure of the little girl with a jerk.
"That's all right. Come along and tell Miss Anne you're good. Come!"
And quite meekly Ivy walked up to Miss Anne, murmuring, "C-a-t—cat."
They heard no more of "tac" at lessons, but Ivy heard a good deal of it from Chris. Many weeks passed before he ceased asking her on all occasions, "Well, how's the pretty tac? Tac's tail all right, eh?"
It was a complete cure—of that particular word. But other words sometimes went wrong in the same way, for little Ivy's chief fault was a mixture of pride and obstinacy; quite different, you see, from Hecla's faults. Each little girl had a battle to fight, and the battle for each was not exactly the same.
[CHAPTER VIII]
Hecla in Charge
ONE Sunday Miss Storey had a very bad headache. It was a rather unfortunate day for this to happen. Elisabeth had been sent home for two nights, to meet a sister whom she had not seen for three years; and Mrs. Prue, in consequence, was extra busy, and extra cross.