“You didn’t say all that at first,” said Sophia Jane; “but I will promise.”
So the agreement was made, and moreover written down in Susan’s best printing hand, and signed by Sophia Jane. Even then Susan felt by no means sure of the result, for it was so much more natural to her companion to be naughty than good.
Thursday came, and Monsieur La Roche also at his usual hour; Susan put on her most discreet behaviour, and kept anxious watch over Sophia Jane. But there was no need for anxiety, her conduct was perfect, and she not only preserved the strictest gravity, but also showed the most marvellous quickness in learning her lessons. Though she might be a naughty child, no one could accuse her of being a dull one; she grasped the meaning of anything like lightning, and while Susan was steadily bringing her mind to bear on a French verb, Sophia Jane knew it already, and could repeat it without a mistake. She showed indeed such zeal and attention throughout the lessons, that it had a sobering effect even upon Nanna and Margaretta, who were so employed in wondering at her that they did not giggle nearly so much as usual.
Monsieur himself was not less surprised at this sudden improvement in his class, and above all in Sophia Jane, who had, without question, been his worst and most backward pupil. When his lesson was finished he beamed kindly at her and said, “It is tr–rès bien, mademoiselle. I am much pleased with you to-day.”
It was such a new thing for anyone to be much pleased with Sophia Jane that it hardly seemed possible, and everyone stared at her. Aunt Hannah turned round from her chair at the fireside to see who had deserved this praise. Sophia Jane! It was an unheard-of thing. The child herself was so unused to the sound of kindness and approval, that it startled her as though she had received a blow. She reddened, gave all her features a sudden twist, and blinked her eyes at Monsieur for an answer.
“Sit straight, Sophia Jane, and don’t make faces,” said Aunt Hannah, and the well-known accents of blame at once restored her to her usual state. The moment Monsieur was gone she was the old Sophia Jane again, tiresome and disobedient as ever. And Susan, remembering the compact about the half-crown, was not surprised at this, for, she thought to herself, “she’s not really doing it because she wants to be good, but because she wants a new head for the doll.” It was quite possible, therefore, still to feel that she was much better than her companion, and this was not unpleasant.
Meanwhile she was much looking forward to seeing Mademoiselle Delphine again, for Aunt Hannah intended to pay her a visit soon to thank her for her kindness, and she had promised to take both the little girls with her. Grace, the doll, must also be fetched home, for Susan had been too sleepy to remember her, and had left her behind. Monsieur’s house was found with some difficulty, but at length Sophia Jane’s sharp eyes spied a dusty card in a window with “Monsieur La Roche, Professor of French,” written on it, and they knew that this must be the right one. Susan wondered whether Mademoiselle would quickly open the door herself as she had done before, but this time a very untidy maid-servant appeared with smudges on her face. There were many other lodgers in the house beside Monsieur and his sister, who had the cheapest rooms of all, an underground one which Susan had thought to be the kitchen, and two tiny attics in the roof. They found Mademoiselle waiting to receive them with a yellow ribbon at her neck, and a manner full of gracious affability. Gambetta sat on the hearth, and the room was perfectly neat and clean, but by daylight; it wanted the air of snugness and comfort which Susan remembered. There was a very tiny fire, and it all looked bare and cold, for the window was so placed that the sunlight could not possibly enter. Mademoiselle partly made up, however, for the dreariness of her lodging by smiles and pleasant conversation. She was delighted to see them all, and to renew her acquaintance with Susan, chattering so fast that Sophia Jane had plenty of time to notice everything, and presently fixed her eyes, full of admiration, on Gambetta, who sat with rather a vexed look on his face by the small fire.
Presently he rose, stretched himself, humped his back, and then jumped up on his mistress’ lap.
“Fi donc!” said she, settling her knees more comfortably for him.
“That is a fine cat,” remarked Aunt Hannah; “a great pet, no doubt?”