“But you saw how she behaved, Miss Thorne. Why do you say that?”
“The girl is of a very affectionate disposition, and I think I can win her over by kindness. She is very clever, and one of my best pupils, and I think in time she will be all I could desire.”
“I must beg to differ from you. Miss Thorne,” said Beatrice, shaking her head. “I have known Ophelia Potts four years, and I am perfectly sure that nothing but severe castigation will ever work a change in her. But of course that is for you to decide. My sister and I could not think of interfering. We only wish, as you are so young, to offer you a few suggestions, and to be of whatever service we can.”
“I am very grateful. Miss Lambent—”
“Miss Beatrice Lambent, if you please,” said the lady in corrective tones. “My sister is Miss Lambent.”
“Miss Beatrice Lambent,” said Hazel gravely; “and I shall always strive to avail myself in every way of your and your sister’s assistance.”
“She is as deceitful as can be,” said Beatrice spitefully, as they were walking home. “That abominable humility makes me feel as if I could box her ears, for it is all as false as false.”
“Henry is perfectly stupid about her,” replied Rebecca. “He thinks her a prodigy; but mark my words, Beatrice, he’ll find her out before long, and bitterly repent not having sent her about her business at once.”
“I can’t imagine what Henry is thinking about,” sighed Beatrice; “but he will find out his mistake.”
Somewhere about this time Hazel had dismissed the girls, and told Feelier Potts to stop back, an order which that young lady obeyed for a few moments and then made a rush for the door.