There was never any prize for her.
She knew there never would be. She used to keep saying inside herself:
"Of course there isn't a prize for you"; and yet she was so silly, her ears were cracking and straining all the time to hear her name read out of the list. And her heart used to feel like a stone when the list came to an end without her name being called; and her pale face would be strangely red and burning like fire. Sometimes a little extra piece would be read, that Poppy Destin's historical essay or geography paper was the best, but the prize had been passed on to the second best on account of this girl's disobedience, untidiness, and the number of undone returned lessons against her name. Then everybody would look at Poppy Destin, and her heart would stop so still that she believed she must fall down dead in one minute.
But the entertainment would go on. The girls fetched their prizes from the table covered with lovely books, and curtseyed to Lady Brand, who spoke and smiled to each one of them. Afterwards would come the recitations and songs that everyone joined in but Poppy. She had been turned out of the singing-class because she sang off the key. Also, Sister Anna said, she moaned instead of singing; though Poppy was aware that she had lovely tunes going on inside her head all the time. It must have been true about the moaning, for Ina used to say when Poppy sang to her at nights:
"Your songs always sound just's if you are crying all the time, Poppy."
She loved music, but was not allowed to learn it. Clara learned and Emily could have if she had liked, but Aunt Lena said she couldn't afford those "frills" for Poppy. Once a lady named Mrs. Dale offered to teach the child if she could be spared two afternoons a week, and Poppy begged her uncle to let her go. He shook his head.
"You must ask your aunt if she can spare you, Poppy."
"Spare her!" shrieked Mrs. Kennedy. "Isn't she away all day now? What help do I get from her, I'd like to know? and now she wants to go gadding off in the afternoons, the only time she can be of a little use to take the children off my hands. Music indeed! Gadding with Nellie Dale is more like it."
"Only twice a week, uncle," pleaded Poppy.
"My girl, you must do what your aunt thinks best. Can't you spare her two afternoons a week, Lena?"