“No, no, my dear child!” returned Miss Wewitz, with her blandest smile, “you think so, I dare say—giddy, foolish thing as you are; for how can you be expected to know the ways of the world at your time of life. But I shall not be gone above half-an-hour at the utmost, so you can easily find something to amuse yourself for so short a time. You can play over some of your pieces, you know; and you’re far from perfect in your Battle of Prague, as yet. Your ‘cries of the wounded’ were anything but well marked, the last time I heard you——”
Suddenly the schoolmistress’ eye caught the uncovered globe in the corner of the room, and, advancing towards the spot, she said: “Why, there’s the cover off the celestial globe, I declare, my dear! It will be all scratched, and covered with dust. What ever have you been doing with it?”
Miss Chutney was ready to drop with fright; for a minute she was so confused that she could make no answer, and only sought to interpose herself between Miss Wewitz and the leathern case.
“What ever have you been doing with it, child?” inquired the schoolmistress, once more.
“Oh, if you please, ma’am,” stammered out the terrified girl, “I was studying the position of the ‘Great Bear’ when you came in.”
“Oh, indeed! Well, I don’t want to interfere with your studies; but I had no idea you had any taste that way,” returned the schoolmistress, delighted in the belief that her pupil was astronomically given, and that she could henceforth lengthen the list of her extras by the item of “the use of the globes.”
“Well, proceed! proceed! I shall be back in less than half-an-hour, and then I’ll come and sit with you—for I dare say you will feel it lonely here for awhile. Now, I know you’ll excuse me, my dear; but really I do think it would break my heart if I were to know that one of those horrid, horrid foreigners had been saying a word to you;” and then, having hastily arranged her bonnet at the pier-glass, she simpered, and withdrew once more.
Miss Chutney stood still, horror-stricken, for a few minutes, and when she heard the key turned in the door with a sharp snap, it sounded as awful to her as the click of the trigger of a highwayman’s pistol.
Her first impulse was to rush to the door and assure herself that it was really locked, and when, after pulling impatiently at it, she became impressed with a full sense of the awkwardness of her position, Miss Chutney thought at first that she would stand still and scream; but then, it struck her immediately afterwards, that by so doing, the whole would be discovered, and Miss Wewitz would be certain to believe that it was all her doing, especially as she had been silly enough not to acquaint her with what had happened directly she entered the room. She had it on the tip of her tongue two or three times, but that Miss Wewitz was so severe, and took such strange views of things; then, again, she always expected the young ladies to be so discreet and circumspect, as she called it, in their behaviour, though she dare say she liked to have a bit of fun as well as they did, in her younger days; “only,” she added to herself, as she grew half vexed at her position, “perhaps that’s so long ago, that it’s quite slipped the old thing’s memory.”
Then, throwing herself into the easy chair, she put her hands up before her face, and indulged in what young ladies are pleased to call “a good cry.”