“Oh, Annie, exclaimed poor Cecil, you are trying to deceive me. Why won’t you be brave? Oh, Annie, I never thought you would stoop to a lie!”
“I’m telling no lie,” answered Annie with sudden passion. “I do know something about the caricature, but I never put it into that book. There! you doubt me, you have ceased to believe me, and I won’t waste any more words on the matter.”
Chapter Fourteen.
“Sent To Coventry.”
There were many girls in the school who remembered that dismal half-holiday—they remembered its forced mirth and its hidden anxiety; and as the hours flew by the suspicion that Annie Forest was the author of all the mischief grew and deepened. A school is like a little world, and popular opinion is apt to change with great rapidity. Annie was undoubtedly the favourite of the school; but favourites are certain to have enemies, and there were several girls unworthy enough and mean enough to be jealous of poor Annie’s popularity. She was the kind of girl whom only very small natures could really dislike. Her popularity arose from the simple fact that hers was a peculiarly joyous and unselfish nature. She was a girl with scarcely any self-consciousness; those she loved, she loved devotedly; she threw herself with a certain feverish impetuosity into their lives, and made their interests her own. To get into mischief and trouble for the sake of a friend was an every-day occurrence with Annie. She was not the least studious; she had no one particular talent, unless it was an untrained and birdlike voice; she was always more or less in hot water about her lessons, always behindhand in her tasks, always leaving undone what she should do, and doing what she should not do. She was a contradictory, erratic creature—jealous of no one, envious of no one—dearly loving a joke, and many times inflicting pain from sheer thoughtlessness, but always ready to say she was sorry, always ready to make friends again.
It is strange that such a girl as Annie should have enemies, but she had, and in the last few weeks the feeling of jealousy and envy which had always been smouldering in some breasts took more active form. Two reasons accounted for this: Hester’s openly avowed and persistent dislike to Annie, and Miss Russell’s declared conviction that she was underbred and not a lady.
Miss Russell was the only girl in the first-class who had hitherto given wild little Annie a thought.
In the first-class, to-day, Annie had to act the unpleasing part of the wicked little heroine. Miss Russell was quite certain of Annie’s guilt; she and her companions condescended to discuss poor Annie and to pull all her little virtues to pieces, and to magnify her sins to an alarming extent.