The irony of the schoolmistress, however, was wholly lost upon Miss Chutney; for though Miss Wewitz continued simpering for some few minutes, the young lady did not so much as turn her head, but went on measuring the border of her apron over her middle finger.
Miss Wewitz could endure the nonchalance of Miss Chutney no longer; so, seizing her by the arm, she desired her to be off to bed that moment; and, as she dragged the young lady up from the inverted clothes-basket on which she was seated, she bade her take her bread and water with her; for long before daylight she knew she would be only too glad to have it, and feel thankful for it, too.
Miss Chutney walked as leisurely as she possibly could towards the shelf on which the tray was placed, and had just raised it in her hand, when the exasperated Wewitz seized her by the arm, and began shaking her, saying, “Do move, girl, as if you had some little life in you, do!” In the warmth of her indignation, however, she agitated the young lady so violently, that the contents of the tray—bread, plate, glass, water and all—were dashed to the floor and deposited at her feet, splashing the front breadths of Miss Wewitz’s black satin dress, much to the annoyance of the schoolmistress, and the amusement of the pupil.
As the pedagogue in petticoats stooped down to wipe the liquid from the bottom of her skirt, she vowed all kinds of vengeance against the delighted Chutney, and among other threats she declared that, before she laid her head down on her pillow that night, she would pen a letter to the young lady’s guardian, and desire him to fetch her from the school immediately, or she would be sure to destroy her hard-earned reputation. In this manner Miss Wewitz continued to threaten and rail at Miss Chutney, as she followed her down the stairs to her bed-room.
The young East Indian, however, said not a word in reply; all that passed her lips was an occasional sarcastic simper; and though Miss Wewitz begged to assure her, on leaving her bed-room, that she would have no breakfast in that establishment on the morrow, provided the slice of bread that she had picked up and brought with her down stairs remained uneaten, Miss Chutney merely bowed in answer, for she was determined not to give way. She had said at the beginning that she would not be the first to make it up, and she would let the sour old thing see that she was no longer a child, to be kept under lock and key, indeed.
When the enraged schoolmistress had quitted the apartment, slamming the door after her, and Miss Chutney was left alone, she could not help thinking how desolate and friendless she was, without a soul near her to share or soothe her sorrows. As her head lay upon the pillow, she thought how all her schoolfellows were with their friends at home, enjoying themselves, while she was thousands of miles away from every one that cared for her. The only kind word she had received all that day was from a stranger, and if it hadn’t been for the sweetmeats he had given her, she really didn’t know what would have happened to her. All she did know was, she would have starved before she had touched that horrid bread and water. Still, she could not help thinking how odd it was that the French gentleman should trouble himself so much about her! what could he see in her? His whole manner had been so strange, and he had seemed so anxious to make her acquaintance from the very first! Of course, she could tell very well that all he had said about the piece of music he had lost was a little white fib, just as an excuse to introduce himself to her. It was very impudent of him, though, and she ought to be very much vexed with him for daring to take such a liberty with her, but—she knew not how it was—she really couldn’t.
Then she wondered who he was. She had heard he was a French Count, and he himself had told her he was single. He’d make a very good husband, whoever had him; for if he could be so good to one whom he scarcely knew at all, what wouldn’t he do for one whom he had sworn at the altar to “love and cherish.” (Miss Chutney, and the whole of the first class, had the marriage-service by heart, it being their usual custom to pass the time in church by reading it during the sermon.)
Thus the school-girl continued ruminating and ruminating upon the more pleasant part of her day’s adventures, until she gradually glided into sleep.
In the morning, the self-willed Miss Chutney woke as determined as ever, and though the first thing that met her sight was the piece of dry bread on the chair at her bedside, she chuckled triumphantly, as she said, “I wonder which of us will be tired out first?” Then, as she once more turned over in her mind all the occurrences of the previous evening, and remembered Miss Wewitz’s threat of sending for her guardian, she grew red in the face, and bit her lips with vexation, for he’d be sure to read her one of his long prosy lectures, and write a solemn account of the whole affair to her papa, by the very next mail to India. The moment after this, however, she was laughing the threat to scorn, and saying to herself, that old Wewitz was too fond of parlour-boarders to think of expelling one—and especially one who remained at the school all the holidays, as she did.
All of a sudden it struck her that, just to let Wewitz see she didn’t mind about being locked up, she’d dress herself that minute, and be off up into the linen-room, so that when the old thing got up, she would find that she had gone up there of her own accord, and then she’d be ready to bite her fingers off with vexation—which would be such fun.