“And I do,” said Molly, “and I’ll help Jessie all I can to be kind to her, and I will try and influence the Upper School in her favour.”
“Thank you, Molly; my child, you are a real comfort to me. And now let us talk a little bit about this lovely prize. I hope you two are going to compete for it.”
Jessie was silent. After a minute she said: “I don’t know that I shall.”
“I am going to,” said Molly.
“That’s right, Molly, it will be a splendid incentive to work.”
“But ought girls who are extremely well off to compete for a prize of that sort?” interrupted Jessie. “Now, the girl in the whole school whom I should like best to get it would be that poor, exceedingly pretty, dear little Kitty Merrydew.”
“Oh, I don’t think she’s at all likely to get it,” said Mrs. Fleming.
Jessie looked at her, contracting her light brows and giving the head mistress a puzzled, reflective, and by no means amiable glance. “Teachers aren’t perfect any more than other people,” thought the girl to herself.
“We shall know in a few days who is and who is not going to compete for the prize,” said Mrs. Fleming. “Of course, sometimes it may fall to the lot of a girl who doesn’t value it for its intrinsic merits; but to such a one it will be always a very valuable reminder of a very happy life, a memento of a very noble woman, and there is no saying in futurity, my dear Jessie, whether your grandchildren may not be glad of the Howard Prize to help one of them out of a difficulty.”
“Well, I can’t help that,” said Jessie. “I don’t think I will try. I suppose one in a family is enough.”