“I wor seven my last birthday, one month agone.”
“Your grammar is disgraceful, child. Please understand that the schoolroom has its penalties.”
“What’s them?”
“Again I shall have to correct you. ‘What are they?’ is the sentence you ought to use. But now, my dear, I don’t approve of little girls learning much when they are only seven years old; but if you wish to be a schoolroom girl you will have to take your place in the schoolroom, and you will have to learn to submit. You will have to be under more discipline than you are now with nurse.”
“All the same, I’ll be with my own aunt,” said Penelope, raising her bold black eyes and fixing them on Miss Sophia’s face.
But Miss Tredgold was not the sort of person to be influenced by soft words. “Deeds, not words,” was her motto.
“You have said enough, Penelope,” she said. “Take your choice; you may be a schoolroom child for a month if you like.”
“I wouldn’t if I were you, Pen,” said Josephine.
“But I will,” said Penelope.
In her heart of hearts she was terrified at the thought of the schoolroom, but even more did she fear the knowledge that nurse would laugh at her if she returned to the nursery.