“Oh! oh!” cried several voices. This was favouritism indeed.
Mrs. Fleming came down from her platform, and going up to the Irish girl, took her hand. “Peggy, dear child,” she said, “I do not accept your generous offer. You shall choose your recitation, and I trust you will do your very best when the moment comes for you to recite. I know, my child, we shall all listen to you with pleasure.”
CHAPTER XXII.
KITTY’S TREACHERY.
In the case of the prize essays, no help of any sort was to be given; but in the case of the recitations Mrs. Fleming altered her plan. The time to learn and to recite was somewhat short, and each girl who wished was allowed to consult with Miss Henrietta Greene, the most dignified and the most intellectual teacher in the school. Miss Greene might offer suggestions, and on a certain day the girls were to assemble in the big schoolroom and recite for her benefit. She was permitted to listen and to correct any startling inconsistencies, but she was not in any way to praise the young reciters. Nevertheless, a great deal can be learnt from the human face, and these girls were sharp enough to be able to judge a good deal by Miss Greene’s expression of countenance. The rehearsal took place one day before the essays were to be sent in. Peggy was much excited, and could scarcely keep her excitement to herself. To Peggy, verse was like music, rhythm was to her pure ecstasy; a ballad was indeed a story into which she could throw herself and live. All her life long the child had this special gift, and many and many were the verses she recited to the children in the old country, to her grandparents, and to her foster-parents, the O’Flynns. Peggy chose Ireland, and always Ireland, as her theme; with the Irish ballad she could give herself away, and show what a maiden of Ireland might achieve. Her action was absolutely natural, full of fire and without effort; it came to her as easily as did the breath that she drew. She was in the picture, she was there herself, going through the agony or the joy. The smile that came and went on her lovely face, the look of exultation which filled her sapphire eyes, all showed her true and real appreciation. When Peggy recited she forgot herself absolutely. Hitherto her great piece had been the very well-known recitation called “Fergus O’Flynn;” this, of course, would not do for the present occasion, and after a little study she suddenly announced that the piece she would recite was called “The Fairies’ Passage,” and was by James Clarence Mangan. Molly Wyndham chose “The May Queen,” but was told that it was a little too long, and she must only recite the two first parts, another girl selected Tennyson’s most touching “Children’s Hospital,” and another again chose part of Mrs. Hamilton King’s well-known “Story of the Irish Famine.”
The recitations were to take place in the afternoon, and Peggy entered the room accompanied by the other girls, who sat round in a row. One by one they went through their verses, and at last it was Peggy’s turn. The colour rushed into her cheeks, for a minute her eyes shone. Kitty, who was watching her intently, perceived at that moment that Peggy was absolutely lost to her presence; that she, Kitty, was nothing at all to the girl; the girl was away in the scene which she had conjured up.
Peggy’s voice came mellow, clear, with the exquisite touch in it which only an Irish voice possesses. She stood a little apart, a curious light filled her eyes.
“Now, Peggy, now,” said her mistress.
The girl started, just as though something had awakened her from a dream, then she began:
Tap, tap! Rap, rap! “Get up, Gaffer Ferryman!”
“Eh? Who is there?”—The clock strikes three.—