“Do you know anything about the government of our country? In what it consists?”
“Course. There’s a President and—and—and other folks.”
“Perfectly correct. We will pass over the ‘other folks’ till a future day. Please spell ‘separate.’”
Mr. Ninian had drilled Jessica during the winter past on the fine art of orthography and here, at last, she felt herself secure.
“Oh! I can, easily: ‘Sepperate.’”
Madame Mearsom folded her paper and touched a bell. A maid appeared, and received the order:
“Assemble the young ladies for evening prayers. Then return and show Miss Trent to her room and see that she has everything comfortable. She is excused from further exercises on this first day.”
Then to this abashed “new-er” she said:
“There is no ‘form’ at present existing in the school which you are fitted to enter. I will arrange a special course for you and special instructors. Good night. I hope you will sleep well.”
“Sleep well!” thought poor Jessica, tossing on her white bed in the charming room assigned to her. “Why—I was never so ashamed in all my life! I—I know she knows I don’t know anything! and the ‘boys’ said I was so terr’ble smart! Sleep? I’m too mortified to sleep; ’cause though she didn’t tell me I know she knows——”