“Good-afternoon, Miss Patty,” she said, not uncivilly, but coldly. “Miss Flo will come to your tea a bit late, as she has her music to do.”
“I’m not going to practise to-day,” remarked Flo, carelessly.
“Yes, Miss Flo, you are. Not a step do you go from this room till your hour is done.”
Then Flo turned to her governess and looked her straight in the eye.
“Snippy,” she said, in firm, even tones, “I am not going to practise to-day, nor to-morrow, nor next day, and perhaps never again! Hush, don’t you speak! I’m going to Patty’s tea, now, now, NOW! Do you hear?” Flo’s voice grew a little louder and she took a step toward Snippy, and shook a warning forefinger at her. “You have your orders, I know, but in this case you take orders from me, ME! I wish to dress at once, and you will lay out my Dresden silk with the pink bows. Now you jump!”
Perhaps it was the explosive way in which she pronounced the last word, but at any rate Snippy jumped as if she had been shot, and with a vanquished air went to the wardrobe for Flo’s dress. Patty, overcome with amusement at the scene, slipped away, lest her presence prove embarrassing to the conquered spirit.
But she needn’t have feared. Snippy’s nature had a touch of arrogance and presumption because of her responsible position, and when Flo thus asserted herself, the stern old lady felt the justice of it and met the situation bravely.
“Yes, Miss Flo,” she said, “and shall I do your hair with bands or a fringe?”
So the incident was closed, and never again referred to, and Flo tranquilly did her practising every day thereafter.
“Isn’t she funny?” said Patty, as the two sat in the garden waiting for the guests to come.