"Yes; does not a mistress always command her pupils?"
"When she can," replied Bridget. Her hands dropped to her sides. She lowered her eyes; her proud lips were firmly shut.
After a little pause, during which neither mistress nor pupil spoke, the pupil raised her head.
"I hate school," she said. "I want to go back to the Castle. Can I go to-day?"
"No, Bridget, you cannot. You have been sent here to be under my care, and you must remain with me at least until the end of the term."
"When will that be?"
"Not for over a month?"
"Couldn't you write to father, Mrs. Freeman, and tell him that I am not happy? Say, 'Biddy is not happy, and she wants to go back to you and the dogs.' If you say that, he'll let me come home fast enough. You might write by the next post, and father, he'd jump on the jaunting-car and drive into Ballyshannon, and send you a wire. If papa wires to you, Mrs. Freeman, the very moment he gets your letter, I may perhaps be home on Sunday."
Bridget's changeful face was now all glowing with excitement, eagerness, and hope. Her defiant attitude had vanished. As she looked full at Mrs. Freeman, her governess noticed for the first time that her eyelids were red, as if she had been crying. That, and a certain pathos in her voice, made the head mistress regard her in a new light.