“I can’t—can’t—can’t—go to that horrid school! Never no more, never!” with which exclamation she burrowed into the nest her father’s arms made for her, and hid her tearful face on his breast.
He waited until her sobs had subsided, and then inquired: “Why not, darling?”
“Because—oh, ’cause—I hate it! Maybe that’s bad, but I do. The children go ‘buz-z, buz-z’ over their books; and it’s hot; and I can’t breathe, a’most; and, oh, Papa, I want to go home!”
“My little one, I shall have to forbid your ‘boys’ writing to you, if their letters make you homesick.”
“It isn’t that. It isn’t, really, truly. But—am I a ‘runaway circuser,’ Papa, dear?”
“Why, no. Certainly not. Why should you need contradiction of such a silly charge?”
“’Cause that’s what they all call me—’most every one. An’ they say: ‘Why won’t you give us a ride on your old Spot-back, Californy!’ And: ‘She’s the girl ’at ’s only in the Primary! ’Cause she’s brought up in a stable;’ an’ such heaps o’ mean things that I feel—I feel’s if I should suff’cate. Need I go, Papa, dearest?”
“I cannot tell yet. Let us talk it over with Grandmother. Rather, I will do that, and you do what is far more to your liking and better for you,—wash away your tears, find Sutro, and tell him he may go for a horse at the livery-stable; then jump on Tito’s back and ride your troubles away.”
When obedience is happiness, it is always prompt; but even happiness has its drawbacks. It was this very riding on the piebald horse which had excited the envy and malice of a few of Old Knollsboro small folks. The majority of Steenie’s school-fellows were full of an unexpressed admiration for her wonderful horsemanship as exhibited in the—to her quiet—rides through the village streets; but she was not the first person who has forgotten the flavor of the grapes in the sting of the wasp hidden among them,—although, heretofore, her sunny nature had risen above her annoyances with its own gay rebound.
Now, when she had ridden out of the yard, and the merry tones of her farewell had satisfied her father’s ear that all was well for the present, he went “to talk it over,” as he had promised, with the mother, whom he now consulted in all things.