“Not bad, indeed!” burst from Mabel. “I have a genius for black and white.”
“Mrs Lyttelton evidently does not see it, Mabel. But stop talking, and let me go on.
”‘Your English education, dear Mabel, is, however, your weak point. Mrs Lyttelton considers that you have no love for the good things of literature or history. This she much deplores. She mentions in her letter that she thinks more of the literature prize than any other prize the school offers, and wishes most heartily that you should obtain it. Now, my dear Mabel I make you a proposal. Win the first prize for literature on the coming prize day, and I will take you from school. You shall join me in Paris, and, in short, may consider yourself an emancipated young lady. If, on the other hand, you do not win the prize, you must patiently submit to another year of education, at the end of which time you shall again hear from me. Now, no more grumbles, my dear. Win the prize, and you are free; lose it, and you remain for another year at school.’”
“There!” said Mabel; “isn’t it like her? Did you ever in all your life hear of anything more aggravating? She dangles liberty before my eyes, and shows me at the same time that I can as little hope to obtain it as to—well, to fly. I obtain the literature prize! Oh Annie, Annie, isn’t it enough to make one mad!”
“I don’t see,” said Annie very gravely, “why you have not a chance of the prize. You have written your essay, haven’t you?”
“Oh yes; I have written something.”
“Of course,” said Annie in a low, thoughtful tone, “you were not likely to be keenly interested until you received this letter, but now matters are very different. You haven’t sent in your essay, have you?”
“No; all the essay? go in after breakfast to-morrow.”
“Well,” said Annie, “you have got to-night.”
“It is hopeless—quite hopeless,” said Mabel; and she began to pace up and down the room.