“It was not at all right, Nan,” said Miss Roy; “and it must not happen again.”
“But I wanted to work up my lesson; I was not at all sure of my French,” replied Nan. “And the prize will be given in ten days now. There is so little time!”
“You must remember,” said Miss Roy, “that in the orderly-book, even though you do get high marks for intellect, your merit marks will go down if this sort of thing occurs again. Nan, it was a distinct act of disobedience.—But at the same time, Augusta, I would rather you did not tell tales.”
Augusta flushed with indignation.
“I thought you would like to keep the house from being burnt down,” she said. “Of course, in future Nan can do as she pleases.”
Miss Roy said nothing more, and Augusta left the room.
“What is the matter, Nan?” said her governess suddenly. “I often wonder, my dear, why you look so sad and troubled.”
“You would if you were me,” said Nan then.
“Why? Is it because your mother has died, my poor little girl? I have great sympathy for you.”
“No; it is not only that,” said Nan, making a great effort to be honest. “It is because I have a load at my heart, and I cannot ever tell you; and if all was known I ought not to be a soldier of the Royal True Blue at all—I ought not—but I cannot draw back now.”