"Then, gracious me!" said Irene, "that won't be for long; because the utmost I can be good for is five minutes at a time. You see, I never was good at all—I never attempted to be—so it didn't enter into my calculations, and now to suddenly turn into a model of all the virtues is more than I can do even for your sake."
"I do not expect impossibilities. I only want you to try."
"Well, you are not so precious good yourself."
"I'm not at all good. We'll try to be good together."
"It will be fun our both trying," said Irene, looking at her with a comical expression. "How are we to begin? Shall we do penance like the old monks? Do you know, Rosamund"—here Irene linked her thin, almost steel-like little hand inside Rosamund's arm—"that I am a most voracious reader? Father was a great collector of books, and when I am tired of frightening the servants, and terrifying Frosty, and annoying mother, I spend days at a time in his library swallowing down the contents of his books. There is no other word for it. So I know odds and ends of all sorts of things."
"You must know things properly henceforth. But what was that you said about penance?"
"Do you want us to do penance for our sins? The monks were very fond of standing out in the cold in their night-shirts. Do you want us both to do that to-night? It will terrify mother, and the servants will think we are a pair of ghosts. I should rather enjoy that."
"I don't want anything silly of that sort. Come along now, Irene. The very first thing you have got to do is to beg Miss Frost's pardon."
"I beg Frosty's pardon! But she is in bed. She says they are running up and down inside her."
"You know you were exceedingly cruel. It was a very low sort of trick to play. I can understand a girl being wild and doing all sorts of things that perhaps she ought not to do, and even neglecting her lessons; but to terrify a poor, harmless governess! And you have terrified more than one. You'll have to drop that sort of thing now, Irene."